


Just a kid

by MissTinfoilHat



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Al needs a hug, Angst, Automail, Ed needs a hug, Everyone Needs A Hug, Growing Up, Hurt Edward Elric, Hurt!Ed, Hurt/Comfort, Maes Hughes Lives, Major Character Injury, Mental Health Issues, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Parental Riza Hawkeye, Parental Roy, Parental Roy Mustang, Restored Alphonse Elric, because I just can't deal, more tags will follow as they might leave spoilers for now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2020-02-16 07:13:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18686671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissTinfoilHat/pseuds/MissTinfoilHat
Summary: Edward Elric is closing in on his seventeenth year and his lack of growth and respect from his co-workers in the military is starting to get to him. What will happen when he is put through a traumatic event that forcefully rips away his innocence in the most terrefying way?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started to write this a couple of months ago. I was not sure if I was going to post it or not- but I'm still going to. I will update it shortly, as I have more chapters ready, only needing to be read through and grammar checked.
> 
> It's another angsty fic, but that's apparently just how I roll these days!

 

* * *

Fallman, Havoc, Fuery, and Breda had arrived from a mission in New Optain only a few hours ago. They had decided to invite the rest of the group for dinner and drinks to share their verbal reports. From Mustang's experience, that meant getting wasted, revealing confidential information publicly and chase women. Or men. He was not entirely sure about Fuery after last year's Christmas party. Anyway, that was probably the reason why they had chosen the somewhat shifty Inn, just hardly within the city limits. Havoc and Breda had been persistent that it was because of the amazing food.

He looked in the mirror, always feeling a bit awkward in his civilian clothing. Whenever he was not in his uniform, he never really knew how to dress for the occasion. ' _It's a tavern for christ sake_ ', he thought, and threw his tie away, settling for a white button-up shirt, covered by a navy cardigan and black pants. It looked fairly similar to his uniform. He shrugged.

' _Whatever_ '.

* * *

He honked the horn from his car a couple of times to make his presence known when arriving outside the Elric brother's apartment. Shortly after, the long-haired alchemist came running down the staircase that led to the sidewalk from their second floor flat. Roy noted that he was not wearing his regular red coat. In fact, his wardrobe had been much more assorted lately. However, he was still refusing to wear the official state alchemist uniform. It did not really matter though, as their tailor did not usually work with kid's sizing anyway. Today he was wearing a moss green, hooded coat, not too different from the red jacket. Underneath he had a white shirt and black pants. He opened the door to the front seat and got in.

"Sorry shrimp, I didn't bring the booster seat. Anyone under 5 feet has to sit in the back," Roy smirked.

"Who are you calling so short that he uses a sock as a sleeping bag!?" the runt exploded with heated cheeks.

Roy smiled at how easy it was to rile up his young subordinate, and reached his hand out and messed up the blonde's hair. Ed sunk down in the seat with his arms crossed at his chest and looked out of the window while sulking. They also picked up Fuery and Breda on their way, Breda whining more than Ed for not getting the front seat. This seemed the cheer Edward up considerably.

It was a twenty-minute drive to the Inn. Riza and Fallman had already arrived, and within ten minutes Havoc was also seated at their table. Roy was surprised when they actually did have amazing food, as Breda and Havoc so stubbornly had argued. There was even live music. It was not long after they had devoured their meals, before his men's tipsy chatter grew louder, just as Roy had foreseen. Suddenly, he was very happy that none of them were wearing uniforms.

"Lightweights." Ed rolled his eyes when Breda and Furey laughed loudly at some inside joke from several years ago. Ed was obviously not drinking. He was neither of age nor looked old enough to get away with it. Riza gave him a crooked smile, and Havoc stirred a glass of whiskey in his hand.

"How old are you now, chief?" He asked with a sheepish smile. Ed looked at him suspiciously, before answering.

"I'm almost seventeen."

"Ah, well..." he pushed the glass over the table, so it was placed in front of Ed. "Have a sip," he offered.

Ed lifted the glass, eying the golden liquid with attentive eyes. He looked up and met the gaze of the entire table, watching him expectantly. Only Riza seemed unamused, which made Ed uncertain if he should do it.

"Bottoms up!" Breda declared, slamming his beer jug on the table.

"Okay," Ed mumbled hesitantly but did exactly that.

His first thought was that it did not taste good. Like some kind of solution from a can with warning stickers on the side telling you explicitly not to drink it. Then the burning sensation hit him, and he coughed violently. Havoc laughed as Riza reached out to tap his back. She actually had a small smirk on her face too now, while Ed gagged and felt like he was about to cough up a lung. The liquid made his eyes water, and he felt the burning making its way from the back of his throat, all the way up to his nose.

"How was it, chief?" Havoc chuckled, as Ed's coughing fit was coming to an end.

"I don't like it!" Ed pouted, sliding the glass harshly back to Jean with a twitch on his nose.

* * *

"Stupid Second Lieutenant's gross fire water..." Ed snarled under his breath as he trampled his way to the toilet, holding his sleeve up to his runny nose.

Once at the toilet, he blew his nose several times to get rid of all the stray liquid. He threw the paper towels into the trash bin, and was about to head out, but got distracted by his reflection in a full-length mirror hanging beside the door.

He had grown taller, hadn't he? He definitely was over the measly 5 feet the Colonel teased him with. Probably closer to 5'3, or maybe even 5'4. He straightened his back and remembered that he had refused to let them measure him at his last doctor's visit. How tall was he supposed to be at his age? He was closing in on his seventeenth year, and his team still didn't seem to take him seriously. Maybe it's just him. He was just a runt, after all. Letting out a sigh, he tightened his ponytail and left the bathroom.

Outside the door, a man was waiting in line. Ed excused himself as he passed him in the narrow corridor.

"Hey, kid.»

Ed turned around to look at the man who was standing there. He was tall and broad, a little chubby. His brown hair was thick, and beard untrimmed. Ed wondered if he was going to be able to grow a beard soon. The man wore a grey t-shirt with a brown vest and denim jeans with a bandana sticking out of its right pocket.

"I see you have automail," the man stated with a wide smile.

Ed looked to his right arm as if he was checking. He was very aware of his right arm being made of metal. Every slightly rainy, cool or warm day painfully reminded him- whenever he was not being called out by his code name, the Fullmetal Alchemist.

"I'm a mechanic," the man explained. "Would you mind if I take a look?" The man held out his hand, still smiling. Ed did not really want to, as he knew that a tune up was long due, and these gearheads were usually very vocal about that.

"Uh, I guess not,» he finally decided. The man momentarily grabbed his right arm in an overwhelmingly strong grasp. It was not uncommon that the mechanics that worked with the nerve operated metal prosthetics were exceptionally strong, and he could definitely confirm that himself after years of having wrenches hurled at his head by his own mechanic. It was hard labor, but Ed still felt like this was unnecessarily intrusive.

"Hm, ah, I see," the man hummed, while he was twisting and turning his arm, poking on different screws and plates. "This is a very unusual design. It's very interesting. Who's your mechanic? I have to get his name."

On behalf of Winry, Ed felt a little insulted when the man assumed his automail mechanic to be a male. "Actually, _her_ name is Winry Rockbell. She's a childhood friend of mine."

The man looked at Ed's small frame, not being able to hide his surprise. "Childhood friend? You can't be much older than twelve," he uttered.

Ed bit his tongue to calm his need to rid himself of a series of carefully chosen unpleasantries, which mainly involved observations of how the man's appearance replicated various body parts.

"She actually made my first set of automail when we were eleven, _almost six years ago,_ " he answered, grinding his teeth.

"Wow, that's early. For both of you. Astonishing," the man replied, scratching his chin under the beard.

At that point, Breda made his entry in the small hallway with a spaced look on his face, heading unsteadily for the toilet. "Heya, Ed ma'man. How's it going, chief?" he rumbled, as he ushered his burly body past them.

"Fine, just chatting with an automail mechanic."

"Yeah, yeah..." Breda mumbled dismissively, followed up by some unintelligible chatter, mostly to himself. Shortly after, they could hear the strong current hitting the water in the toilet through the frail door, "Thaaaada'boy Breda!" a relieved groan was uttered before the toilet was flushed.

"Friend of yours?" the stranger asked, and pointed his thumb at the door.

"Nope," Ed murmured, protruding his lips while shaking his head, a bit disturbed by the developments that seemed to take place in the other room.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I did not introduce myself. I am Cedric Longhaven," the man made a hand gesture, leaning in for a handshake.

"Edward Elric." Ed pressed the man's hand firmly.

"Edward Elric? That sounds familiar."

"I dunno," Ed shrugged, as the door of the bathroom shut open again. Breda wiped his hands off on his pants, even though Ed did not really hear any running water.

Well, except... _Gross!_

"Common F'llme'll! I'llet ya have a shu-hupp of ma'beer," Breda hickupped, poking Ed with his elbow and blinking furiously.

"I'll be right there," Ed smiled, and Breda stumbled his merry way, keeping up the conversation with someone who, at least _they_ , did not see.

The man who had introduced himself as Cedric Longhaven snickered, and grabbed Ed's arm again to get a closer look.

"There's a weird clicking sound whenever you bend your thumb,» he commented.

"Uh, yeah. I know. It works just fine though." This was _exactly_ the thing Ed had been hoping to avoid.

"There might be a loose part somewhere, scraping on the metal. It's not a problem right now, but if you ignore it for too long, it can cause a lot of unnecessary damage." Cedric looked down at Ed with an assuring smile, "I have my toolbox in my room upstairs. I'll take a look if you want."

"No, that's okay." Ed tried to pull his arm back, but the man did not let go.

"Totally free of charge," he insisted, while his smile seemed to slowly fade.

"N-no, really. I'm sure it's fine..." He felt his heart starting to speed up, as he babbled nervously, tugging at his arm in the man's tightening grip, "I'm gonna visit my mechanic really soon, and she's really touchy 'bout someone else fiddling with her work, ya'know..."

Something hit him in the head.

The last thing Ed remembered was biting his tongue as he hit the floor.


	2. Chapter 2

Slowly, Ed managed to pry his eyes open. He felt nauseous, and he had the iron-like taste of blood in his mouth. Trying to get rid of the white orbs that cluttered his vision, he blinked repeatedly. The room he woke up in had an unfamiliar bodily odor. Like old sweat, motor oil and something else. Aftershave perhaps. His head throbbed, and he could not remember what happened. He realized that he laid on a bed and that it was covered by a heavy quilt. A small yelp unvoluntary left his throat when he tried to sit up. Startled, he realized he could not get in contact with his automail arm, simply because it _was not there.  
_

  
"W-what?” he exhaled, grabbing at his empty port. That was when he heard the faintly familiar voice.  
  
"Ah, so you are finally awake.»  
  
Ed's golden eyes widened when the bearded man from before came into his line of sight. He ravaged over the bed, towering over him. The fading smile had now distorted into a disturbing vicious grin. _Hunger_ , Ed thought, as his head and body finally started to cooperate. He rolled over to the end of the bed, but his attacker quickly hurled himself at him. Ed's movements were awkward with the lacking of weight on his right side and the man that was so much bigger than him. He easily got a hold of him, pinning his flesh arm against the bedframe. Before Ed could even react to what was happening, the man's right hand was tucked inside Ed's pants. Ed gasped, as the intruding hand violently massaged his crotch on the outside of his underwear.  
  
"N-no, please don't, please don't...” Ed pleaded, absolutely petrified.  
  
The man answered his plead by removing his hand from his pants, only to smack the side of his face so hard that his ear started ringing. Ed went into a fight or flight mode and managed to free his automail leg from underneath his oversized attacker. As hard as he could muster, he kicked the man in the stomach, sending the heavy body off the bed. Ed was quickly on his feet, jumping over the bed and running towards the door.  
  
Unfortunately, the kick did not immobilize his attacker for long. He was surprisingly swift for such a large man and got a hold of Ed's wrist. The strong grasp jolted Ed back forcefully, and he was lifted off the ground. Something cracked loudly inside his arm, and Ed whimpered and bit his teeth together to prevent himself from crying out in pain. He could bearly gather the strength for another kick, aiming between the legs of the man. Cedric easily avoided it, grabbing his leg and tossing the young man back on the bed.  
  
Crouching over him, Cedric lifted Ed's pant leg. "Automail leg too, huh? You must have _some_ past time activities. Guess I gotta be more careful then, aye?” He placed both his knees on Ed's legs, pinching them down to prevent Ed from kicking him again. His injured arm was quickly drawn back into the violent grip against the wall. Ed cried out in pain from the added pressure of his newly broken hand. He was quickly shut up by a sharp jab at his jaw. Cedric proceeded to open the drawer at his bedstand, fetching out another bandana and a short rope with his spare hand.  
  
While he was still dazed from the jab, Ed was gagged by the bandana and his demolished hand got tied to the bed frame. Ed could barely comprehend the ripping sound, as the buttons of his shirt were torn from the fabric and revealing his bare chest. Rough hands traced Ed's many scars. Trailing the evidence of all Ed's past failures. He could just as well have been reading Ed's journal.  
  
"You've been through some shit, haven't you kid? I do like 'em feisty, but you're something else Goldilocks,” he laughed, as he pulled Ed's long ponytail, forcing Ed's head into an awkward position. Sniffing at the teen's hair, he took deep breaths to fully take in the sensation of the blondes long hair. He forcefully ripped the hair tie out, letting Ed's hair spread out, covering parts of his face.  
  
Ed was in shock. The man was fully in control of his body, and all he could do was to lay there. He couldn't move a single limb. Nausea dwelled in his throat as he felt the man grinding at his thigh while leaning down towards him. He got too close to Ed's face, and he could smell traces of cigarettes and alcohol on the man's breath. All Ed wanted to do was look away, but he was not going to show how scared he was. He was not going to give this man the satisfaction of seeing the terror on his face. Instead, he glared him straight in the eyes and spat.  
  
The man sat back up, wiping his face with his hand, a malicious smile plastered on his face. “You can fight all you want, Goldie. You're only making it worse for yourself,” he sneered and proceeded to unbuckle his belt.

' _This isn't happening, I'm not here. This isn't happening, I'm not here,_ ' the mantra repeated inside Ed's mind as he closed his eye's tightly. He didn't want to see this, and he could hear the belt slide out of his attackers pants.

  
–  
“Breda is buying the next round!” Havoc happily declared as the unsteady man came waltzing back into the bar.  
  
“What'ya talkin' bout?” he burped while picking up an unattended pitcher of beer from one of the neighboring tables.  
  
“We said the first one to go pee...” Havoc reminded him, Breda shaking his head and proceeded to fill Havoc's beer with his stolen goods.  
  
Roy shrugged as he turned around to face Riza Hawkeye, sitting across the table from him. Her maroon-colored eyes where shining in the dim light in the bar, while she was nipping at her second or third glass for red wine. Roy was still on his first glass of whiskey. “What a great sample of healthy, stand-up guys we've got here. I'm truly proud to be their commanding officer.”  
  
Riza smirked, resting the side of her face in her palm as she listened intently to the music from the stage behind the bar. She glanced over to the table beside theirs, as Breda started to drink directly from the pitcher, while Furey seemingly gave a speech about germs. Falman and Havoc looked as if they were arguing about something. She loved their team, but something interrupted her train of thought. “Roy, have you seen Edward?”  
  
Roy turned his head, peering through the room. “No, I haven't seen him since he went to the bathroom. Hey, Breda! Did you see Fullmetal?” he raised his voice.  
  
“Yeah, he's talking to his mechanic!”

Roy looked at Breda in confusion. “His mechanic? On the phone?” he added.

“Nah, in front of the toilet!” Breda explained, sitting his robust body heavily down at the bench next to his commanding officer. He pointed towards the entry and Roy followed with his gaze.

“Miss Winry is here?” Riza joined in the conversation. She couldn't help but feel uneasy by Breda's clearly flawed clarification of what their youngest team member was doing the last time he saw him.

“Didn't look like a ' _miss_ ' to me.”

* * *

The feeling of being whipped repeatedly by the buckled side of a folded belt was almost welcomed considering the alternative at this point. Prickles of blood were slowly streaming down Ed's chest, as the pin of the buckle punctured his skin. His attacker almost blinded him at one point, hitting him in the eye. Ed's body tensed in pain every time the belt hit his flesh, and he frantically tried to release his aching hand from the tight knot, feeling it loosen slightly.  
  
The beating ceased, and Ed got scared he was found out. His attacker was out of breath, his sweat dripping down and blending with the blood-trails on Ed's chest. A toothy grin appeared on the man's face, as he unbuttoned his bulging pants.  
  
Panicked, Ed tried to the best of his abilities to throw the man off, arching his back and letting out muffled yelps. His struggling seemed to tire the sweaty man.  
  
“Just give up already!” He proceeded to punch Ed several times into his completely unprotected face. Soon enough, stars twinkled in front of his eyes. If there was nothing he could do anyway, he would welcome unconsciousness to take him away from this and that was just what he eventually did.  


* * *

“Wait, no, no, no. It wasn't that skinny girl. T'was... his _other_ mechanic. Some guy.”

“Who are you talking about? There is no _guy_!” Mustang countered, clearly annoyed at his intoxicated subordinate.

“I'm gonna go check it out.” Havoc stated, and got up from their table. Roy and Riza looked at eachother and then, to the drunk man in front of them.

“This seems off to me,” Riza mumbled, crossing her arms with an iffy look on her face.

Roy raised his shoulders, “It's probably just a mechanic who took notice of his automail. It happens all the time.” Riza still was unsure.

“Hey, Breda. You _sure_ they were standing right out there?” Havoc asked, walking back into the room. Breda didn't seem happy about the distrust.

“Yeah, right there! Eddy and a big, scruffy looking guy,” he got up, suddenly sobering up a little. He marched out of the bar, with the others right at his heels. Once they were standing at the entry, Breda pointed to where Ed and the stranger was talking a while ago. “Right there!”

“They certainly aren't anymore,” Havoc said in a patronizing tone.

“I can _see_ that!” Breda snapped back, while Riza seemed to examine the area.

“Do you remember what the man looked like?” Roy asked calmly, trying to defuse the situation. Breda racked his brain for an answer. He hadn't really dwelled too much on the apparence of the man.

“He was a big guy. Dark hair. A beard- I think,” he added, rubbing at his head.

“If someone took him, they might be renting a room at the Inn,” Roy said reluctantly. “We should ask in the reception if someone matching Breda's description has checked in. I want Falman and Riza to look outside, Havoc, you're coming with me, and Fuery... call Breda a cab.”

His men emidietly started working, and Roy wished they were wearing their uniforms again.

* * *

A loud slam jolted Ed awake. The door had burst open. The unexpected noise made Ed pull his arm back, and he felt his restraint give in. The pure adrenaline drowned out the pain in his wrist and he was able to jerk his gag off. Screaming at the top of his lungs, he flailed blindly at his attacker, being able to land a few distraught punches as the pressure of his chest disappeared, and the man was dragged off of him.  
  
Suddenly, the world stopped turning. Ed felt like his ears were filled with water. A mixture of panic, anxiety, and shame hit Ed like a brick wall. The “fight or flight” instinct landed on flight. Before he knew what he was doing, he jumped to the floor, holding his pants with his injured hand. Some muffled voices were talking to him, but he couldn't stay in that room, not while that vile man was still there. Someone reached out at him.  
  
“Get the fuck away from me!” he yelled and managed to pull away from whoever was trying to catch him. He had to get out of there. He bolted through the hole in the wall, where the door had just been knocked down by the use of fire alchemy. Continuing down the stairs and disappeared out of the Inn.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chappy will follow soon!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some spoilers (but not really true to the exact event) of the 2003 series.

“You got this?” Mustang asked Havoc swiftly, after making sure that the bearded man was securely restrained by the piece of rope they had retrieved from the bed, pants still pulled down to his knees. Receiving a nod in reply, Roy ran after his youngest team member, leaving Havoc with the _fucking pervert_ as well as clear instructions that he was _not_ allowed to hurt him. But, it wouldn't really be _his_ fault if the fucker took a tumble down the stairs.

Now, outside of the Inn, he looked around him, letting his eyes peer through the streets after his youngest subordinate.

“Fullmetal?” he asked in a slightly raised voice. He didn't want to yell and freak him out anymore than he already was.

There was no sign of Ed, but he couldn't have gotten too far. Roy walked steadily a couple of houses down, looking through the alleyways between the elderly wooden houses. He stopped as he reached the third alley.

His attention was caught by a large black dumpster near the dead-end street. Carefully, he moved down the narrow path and peeked behind the dumpster.

Ed sat crouched down, resting his head on his knees, while hugging his legs with one arm. His body was shivering, breathing fast and shallowly.

"Edward...”

"I told you to get away from me!” he yelled, his voice breaking halfway through his sentence.

Roy realized that Ed was crying.

"Did he hurt you?” Roy asked carefully. He had seen the man straddling over Ed, but everything happened so fast that he hadn't actually fully realized what had been going on. Until now.

Ed shook his head violently.

"Are you sure?” _Roy sure as hell was not_.

"I'm fine,” Ed whispered. He rubbed his eyes with his sleeve, ashamed that Roy could see him cry. _It was the first time since what had happened to Nina Tucker_.  
  
"Let me take you home,” Roy said calmly and reached out to help Ed off the ground.

Ed flinched, jumping to his feet and tore away from his superior.

"Stop! I'm _fine_! I-I-I'm... I'm fine,” he stuttered while protectively holding his left arm close to his body, leaning his back heavily at the wall.

Now standing up, Roy could really take in the state of the teen. The ripped shirt, the trails of blood streaming down his face and the lacerations on his chest- _not to mention the missing prosthetic_.

"You're automail is gone...” Roy started to say and looked at the way Ed had positioned his remaining arm suspiciously. "And what happened to your other arm?”

Ed's face twisted as the colonel assessed his sorry state.

"Nothing,” he whispered.

He was bearly holding it together and tears were once again fighting for release. Roy used his considerably larger size to his advantage, and grabbed Ed's left arm, forcing it out from his body.

"Please, don't...” Ed whimpered, not being able to force his hand back due to the pain.

The violation of being forced into a position he _did not want_ all over again was too much, and the tears finally escaped his eyes. Roy loosened his grip on the arm, catching the boy as his legs gave out. Steadily, he supported Ed to the ground and led the shaking boy into a sitting position.

“It's okay,” he whispered into the boy's ear reassuringly.

Ed's arm was still in Roy's hand, but not by force. Roy carefully rolled the boy's sleeve up and looked at his wrist in disbelief. The raw skin from a rope-burn was bleeding slightly, and his wrist was turning into a deep blue and purple color, swollen, and looked slightly crooked. Still, the most eye-catching was the clear and darkening spots from a forceful grip.

Roy sighed wearily and tried to drown out the fiery anger that was igniting inside of his chest. He looked at Ed- who's head hung down low, but he could still see the trail of tears streaming down his flushed cheeks.

"Fullm... Edward. Your wrist is broken,” Roy said with forced calmness.

Ed's shoulders began to shiver even more violently, crying with his whole body. Roy scooped the distraught boy closer and embraced him tightly. At first, Ed was weakly trying to fight him off, but when he finally gave up, the sobbing came uncontrollably, leaving wet spots on Roy's shoulder and streaks down his shirt.

They sat there for a long time. Ed's cries were inaudible, but the trembling gave him away. Roy stroked reassuring circles on his back and cradled him slowly in a calming notion.  
  


* * *

Havoc had just sent off the perpetrator in a police car, and an intoxicated Breda in another. He described what little he knew for sure of the crime that had been committed, before they took the culprit to the station.

The guy had managed to keep his balance down the stairs, but in a _freak accident_ , a stray leg (that there was _no way_ to identify) had kicked him in the sack so hard that the pervert probably would have a hard time ever offending again.

_As Havoc saw it, it was just an intensive and very effective form of therapy. Money saved for the state._

Falman and Furey, backed up by a few policemen were going steadily at it, securing evidence from the scene. Watching the police van drive off, Havoc could no longer keep a straight face. He had no idea if Roy had _really_ noticed what the bastard they had dragged off their youngest team member, was doing. _If he had really noticed that the fucker had been exposed and very much aroused._

Havoc leaned heavily against the corner of the Inn and let the contents of his stomach spill out on the sidewalk.

“Jean, are you okay?” Riza had just walked outside and hurried over to him.

Havoc spat a few times to rid himself of the awful taste of bile in his mouth and shook his head.

“I don't know...” he answered honestly and wiped his forehead with a shaky hand.

Riza looked worried and reached a hand out to touch his shoulder.

“I don't understand. What's going on?”

“Ed was... attacked.”

“Yeah, I got that much,” she answered, seeming a little annoyed. “But why are you acting so strange? And where the hell did he and the colonel disappear to?”

With shaky hands, Havoc lit a cigarette and stepped away from his vomit. He sat down on the curb with his head rested in his hands.

“Ed ran off,” Was all he got himself to say.

Riza came beside him, pulling on her skirt to make sure it didn't rise as she sat down.

Havoc let out a silent scoff. “If I was him right now, I think I'd run _forever_.”

Looking at her feet, Riza felt her stomach twist at the realization of what might have happened. She reached out her arm around Havoc's back, and let him rest his head on her shoulder.

“ _He's just a kid_.” Havoc's voice shattered.

Riza hushed reassuringly, and let him sit there for about a minute before she got back up.

“I'm going to go look for Ed and the colonel,” she simply stated and walked off. Leaving Jean on the curb, lighting another cigarette.

* * *

It did not take long for Riza to locate the two alchemists, huddled up behind the dumpster. She could feel her heart break at the sight that confirmed there to be far more going on than Ed getting into a fight. Roy barely recognized her presence, as he cradled the trembling body in his arms.

"Colonel..." Clearing her throat, she tried to steady her voice before continuing. "We should get you two inside."

"Just a minute." Roy spoke in an almost disturbingly soft voice.

Riza could hardly hear the words spoken by the high ranking officer. He still held the boy, whispering something in his ear and listening intently as Ed squeaked some muted words in reply. Roy proceeded to take off his cardigan, wrapping the boy and gently lifting him, one arm placed around Edward's shoulders and the other under his knees. Edward concealed his face, hiding in the spacious jacket as he was carried off.

“Ready?” Riza asked, resisting the urge to run her hands over the blonde hair peeking out of the navy cardigan. Despite her strictly professional act, she was a very caring person. The need to comfort Edward right now was intense. But, at this particular time, she wasn't sure if it would be helpful or just make matters worse.

"Ed needs medical attention," Roy stated.

Edward winced from the words and Roy hugged him reassuringly. Ed seemed like he was trying to crawl under his superior's skin, not being able to get close enough.

"Ed, please," Roy whispered into his ear, and Ed stopped his struggles. Instead, he tried to gain _some_ control back of his body. Holding his breath for a couple of seconds, and then releasing. Repeating.

In their everyday lives, people were used to Edward and Roy's bickering. Insults and playful punches where second nature to the two. Underneath all their squabbles was a strong bond and a deep trust that had developed through years of fighting amongst themselves and along sides of one another.

Even if Ed hadn't been able to get his limbs back, the brothers had been able to return Alphonse's soul to his body, and get it back from the gate.

Roy at honestly hoped that it would be the end of the brother's struggles, but no such luck. Especially as the elder Elric brother was concerned. Trouble had its own way of finding him wherever he went.

Sometimes Roy wished Edward would have resigned from the military when he had completed his goal.

His father had offered up his life in return for the younger Elric brother's body, while Ed was left bleeding out on the floor after the fight with that horrendous homunculus. How he was able to survive that wound, was still the closest thing Mustang had ever known to a miracle.

_And that was saying something._

Lost in thought, Roy hadn't realized that they had arrived at the hospital until he heard Riza's voice calling his name quietly. He looked up at her, nodding and reaching for the door.

Edward flinched weakly as they moved and Roy realized that he probably had been half asleep.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. We're going into the hospital now,” he explained, wrapping his cardigan a little tighter around the body of the young state alchemist. Two bloodshot golden orbs looked out of a small opening in the fabric, and Roy had to restrain himself from pulling Edward into a bone-crushing hug, not releasing him until that painful look in his eyes were gone.

“I don't want to,” Ed's voice sounded pleading. “I just want to go home. _Please._ ”

“I'm sorry Edward. Your arm needs to be looked at by a doctor, and...” Oh, no, Roy thought as the realization of what other tests and treatments that had to be done to secure evidence of the horrific crime that had been committed to the teen.

“Colonel...” Ed's hoarse voice begged. Roy shook his head as if it would help rid him of the thought.  
  
 _This traumatic night was unfortunately not at all over for Ed yet._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am definitely trying to tread carefully when writing this. Trying to stay true to Ed's character as well as the traumatic experience- and how it might be dealt with. Because it's a very real situation for many people, and as I've read some fics dealing with the same issue in the past- I don't think all of them have dealt with the severity of its content in an appropriate way. That's what inspired me to write this. So, hopefully, you will enjoy it as a heartfelt and sincere story.
> 
> This is as far as I've written to this point, but more chapters will follow soon!
> 
> Thank you for reading and take care!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long wait for this next chapter. I was having a real hard time with it and have read countless other fictions while trying to figure out which direction to take this. I don't even know how many drafts I've written and deleted. But, I think my writer's block has lifted slightly, so hopefully, I will be able to turn out another chapter in not-too-long! Hope you all anjoy it!

Roy was fuming with anger while waiting outside at the emergency room. As soon as they arrived, Ed hardly being able to walk, in such obvious pain, the receptionist at the registration desk had the nerves to pleasantly ask them to have a seat and _wait_.

At first, Roy had figured that it was probably okay since it didn't look to be that many people they would prioritize over a young, battered and _so-clearly-armless_ State Alchemist. So, he had steadied Edward to sit at the uncomfortable plastic chairs in the waiting area while he asked to speak to a doctor, nurse or a damn janitor- _just someone_ \- in private.

The elderly woman's robotic smile was still plastered on her face when she said that this was a busy night and that one of the doctors would see them as soon as he or she had the available time. Roy had some brief violent thoughts but settled on calling her a taxidermied grandma under his breath as he retreated back to Edward.

He knew that he couldn't say anything about the sexual assault out here, someone would hear it and Ed would probably be mortified and flee from the hospital. Instead, he sat down with Ed and Riza- sending the rest of the crew home. The others wanted to wait too, but they were all so tired. Especially Havoc seemed to be needing the rest badly. He'd been smoking like a chimney none stop since they had found Ed, and looked paler than usual.

There they sat for the better part of an hour.

Edward couldn't keep his eyes open anymore but was in too much pain to fall asleep. Whatever dignity he had left, he would clutch onto by sitting with his back as straight as he possibly could and looking unfaced by what had happened. _Untouched_ , he thought before breathing through another fit of nausea. If it was from the word or from a possible concussion, he wasn't sure.

Ed didn't say a word the entire wait, even as people kept staring at the young boy who was missing an arm and wore the ever darkening bruises on his face while blood from a deep wound trailed down from the outer creek of his left eye.

The slight trembling in his shoulders didn't go unnoticed by either Riza or Roy, but they knew better than to speak up about it. There were a time and place for falling apart, and they both knew that (even if it would probably provide them help faster), this was neither for Ed.  
  
The shakiness suddenly took a turn for the worst, as Edward struggled to cover his mouth and suddenly stumbled his way for the bathroom.

He didn't get that far before violent retching started, but fortunately, Roy was quickly by his side with a wastebasket.

Ed wasn't able to comprehend that he was kneeling in the middle of the emergency room floor, throwing up every single thing he'd eaten the last few hours. He could only feel his own heartbeat hammering in his chest as his throat burned, stomach churned and his head throbbed at the effort.

Meanwhile, Riza was back at the reception, asking how much longer they had to wait since Edward's condition seemed to get worse. The receptionist repeated her previous answer with the sickly cheery smile. 

When the dry-heaving had eased, Riza came and retrieved the basket and placed it on top of the difficult receptionist's desk. “Here, I thought I'd help you guys clean up since you obviously have such a busy night.” She left it there on the desk and turned, walking back to Edward and Mustang.

Luckily, an elderly doctor had come out to check on the commotion and was now waving them to come along. After a little more than two hours, Edward was finally taken in.

He refused any one of them to come along with him, as he struggled to keep his legs underneath him on the short walk over to the doctor.

After a couple of minutes, Roy snuck in after them. Someone had to tell someone what was actually going on, which he knew Ed wouldn't do himself. So, whatever wrath Ed would bring upon him for making the doctor aware of that- he would accept.

* * *

The same doctor came out to greet Roy after another hour of waiting. He asked him quietly to accompany him to a vacant room close by.

Once in there, he gestured for Roy to have a seat in front of a nice mahogany desk and sat on the other side, reading swiftly through the notes he had sprawled out in front of him before folding his hands and turning to Roy.

“I understand that you are the boy's legal guardian,” he stated no nonsensically.

Roy nodded vaguely, fully knowing that his duties as a legal guardian had been neglected horribly for five years.

The doctor gave a slight nod, sighed, which Roy knew never was followed with good news. He cleared his throat before he spoke.

“As you yourself suspected upon his admission, he does have a broken wrist. In addition, there were several lacerations covering his body. Some of them needed stitches. He has suffered a concussion and a small crack in the bone over his left eye. This will heal by itself, but is going to leave a nasty bruise that will fade during a couple of weeks. He has been throwing up some more aswell, and some short-term memory loss is to be expected." There was a small pause. "In regards to the assault,” the doctor seemed hesitant, and Roy could feel his back freeze.

“...well, I understand that there is a somewhat complicated situation here, with you formally being his superior officer as well as a parental figure-”

Roy scowled at the sound of ' _parental figure_ ' because he knew he was no such thing to Edward nor had he any aspiration of being that.

“Mr. Elric requested that the results of his further exams would stay confidential, and I am contemplating if I should grant that request or not. He is underage, and to a parent- I would have had to disclose the results, but as his boss, you don't have any legal right to know. So, what I'm asking you is... which role do you wish to play in this?”

Roy was taken aback by the question. He honestly had no idea what to say, only sat there, blinking while watching the doctor wait for his reply. His decision of knowing something Edward didn't want him to know- but likely leaving him more equipped of helping him, or, leaving there with the same information he had come in with- and make Edward suffer in silence, which he knew he would.

“Could I... could I elect someone else in my place? For the information, I mean.” He thought about Hawkeye. She would know how to handle something like this. Maybe Maes, but he might be too overbearing.

The doctor shook his head with a sad smile. “So, I'm guessing you've made your decision?”

Roy's gaze snapped back at him. “No,” he immediately said. “I said no such thing. I just, really don't know what I should do.”

“Very well. I understand that this is a difficult situation, and I'll let you have some time to think it over and maybe try to talk with the boy. He puts on a hard exterior, but he's not dealing too well right now. I strongly recommend that you make him an appointment with a therapist.”

“Yeah,” Roy said distantly. “We have one that we usually prefer within the military. I'll call her tomorrow.” 

“Good. Do you have any questions beyond what we've discussed?”

“Uh, yes. His automail. Do you have a mechanic at the hospital that can take a look at it?”

“No, I'm sorry. We don't. That will have to be dealt with separately. We usually only treat infections and occasionally host recoveries from automail-surgery.”

Roy bit his lip but nodded in reply. “Will he be allowed to leave tonight?”

“Yes, as soon as his treatment is done. You can probably join them at this point. They are currently treating the minor injuries, so they will be done soon.”

“Okay. Thank you for your time, doctor...” Roy realized he never caught his name.

“Henricksen,” he smiled, reaching a hand out for a handshake before he led Roy to the room where Edward was receiving medical attention.

Before showing him into the room, Dr. Henricksen added sternly, “another suggestion, Colonel Mustang.”

“Yes?”

“He shouldn't be left alone for the time being.”

Roy nodded, before realizing, _'shit, Alphonse!'_ He knew he must be worried sick about now.  
  
Hesitatingly, he replied. “I'll make sure of that," before giving the door a short knock and entering.

Ed had been changed out of his clothes and into a paper gown. His arm was in a cast and laid limply in his lap and he had gauze taped on his face, way too close to his bruised eye.

Edward gave Roy a venomous stare as he walked into the room. “I thought I told you to wait outside,” he barked, but with no real conviction. Only genuine complete exhaustion.

“I know. I had a short talk with your doctor, that's all. He said you were almost done,” Roy explained calmly.

The nurse who had been working on Ed's cuts and bruises entered through a door on the oposite side of the one that Roy had entered through. The dark, handsome man who suddenly was standing in the middle of the examination room made her jump and exclaim a small gasp. She was holding a folder in her arms,  peering at the Colonel unsurely.

Roy gave his usual charming smile. It was an excellent defense mechanism in situations where his character was being evaluated- and it always seemed to work with the ladies. This was no exception.

“Mr. Mustang?” she asked with an uncertain smile.

“General, _please_ ,” he said in a smug tone, reaching out for her hand and gave it a soft kiss in greeting. She grinned shyly and seemed to forget about what she was doing.

Ed was fine with that, but his superior officer's self-satisfied attitude did not go unnoticed. He rolled his eyes and laid back to the examination table and looked at the ceiling, letting Roy soak in his own self-worshiping. He found himself absently wondering how many people lay there every day, watching the same strange stain up there, as he was right now. Their stories and how they ended up here. Mainly because- he didn't want to think about his own.

“Now, my dear, if you won't mind, I'd like to have a word in private with Edward,” Roy said, still holding her hand.

This brought Edward back to reality quickly. He did _not_ want to talk to Roy alone right now. Didn't want the questions, didn't want to dwell on it. The only thing he wanted was to get out of there, back to the apartment where Al was probably still up- waiting for his brother to come back while he should be asleep. School starts early and the last thing his brother needed was to worry because of Ed.

Because he was okay. _Nothing happened._ There was a little brawl at the bar, it got a little...rough and- _oh God he could still smell the foul breath as the disgusting man leaned in to smell his hair and he needs a shower it feels so dirty-_

“Oh, that's okay. We're just about done,” she answered, practically melting by his touch. “We gave him some sedatives to complete the examination, as well as painkillers for the pain. He's probably going to be a bit out of it for the next few hours,” she said, forcing herself to conduct herself in a more professional demeanor.

_-need to wash away his sweat on his chest and the disgusting thing he knew had been there but couldn't remember but he knew and-_

Roy nodded in response, his own smirk disappearing from his face as the severity of the situation once again seemed to strike him.

_-anyone can fight Ed all they want because Ed is gonna fight back and eventually win because he usually does but that man had no right to take it away from him had no right and_ fuck _he touched his hair and-_

“We want him to return in six weeks for a check-up for the break in his arm, to make sure that it heals properly. I'm just going to take Mr. Elric's temperature, and then he's cleared to leave,” she stated, holding the thermometer in her hand and gently pulling Ed's loose hair away from his ear.

_“You had no right to touch me!”_ Ed yelled suddenly, jolting unsteadily to his feet and throwing his broken hand as a sledgehammer after the nurse. Roy registered the reaction quickly and pulled the nurse back in time to dodge the attack.

Edward panted heavily and stared with wide eyes at his surroundings. The strength of his legs disappeared at the slow realization of where he was- and what he had almost done. He descended onto the floor as his legs went out, instinctively moving his automail arm to catch himself- flinching in pain from the loose and unprotected wiring were his missing prosthetic should have been, as the empty port hit the edge of the examination table instead. 

“Edward?” Roy asked in a hushed voice, still holding the stunned nurse's elbow. “Ed, are you okay?”

Edward curled tightly in on himself, the same way he had done in the alley, protecting his injured arm in his lap and resting his forehead on his knees. Unaudiable whispers left the small frame.

Roy let go of the nurse, crouching down to Edwards level, careful not to touch him in fear of startling him even more. “Edward? What's going on?”

“ _He- he_ _smelled my hair_ ,” came a quivering whisper from the boy. “He smelled my... my _hair_.”

The colonel looked worriedly at his young subordinate. He really wasn't equipped for this at all. Whatever came over him in the alleyway felt so natural then and there, but now… Now he had no idea what to say or do to comfort the distraught kid.

Edward was shivering, speaking nonsensically, only interrupted by a few shuddering breaths.

The nurse came up to Roy from behind and left a hand on his shoulder. “Do you want me to get some more sedatives?” she asked silently, but not silent enough. Edwards' head jerked up. He frantically kicked at the floor, trying to back up and get further away from them and huddled up in a heap under the examination table.  
  
- _If he had both of his arms he would be able to transmute an opening in the wall behind it but without automail he was helpless and couldn't do anything or fend for himself so how the hell was he supposed to protect Alphonse?-_

“No, _please_ no, I'll be calm- I- I didn't mean to lash out at you!”  he uttered hoarsely, looking terrified with wide watery eyes. “I'm so, _so_ sorry!” He tightly shut his eyes trying to force back the intruding warmth of the unshed tears.  
  
 _-and now he's reduced to this. Crying and pleading on the floor, hiding under a fucking table as a little child and he's supposed to be a grown up but he's not because he's hiding and panicking because some disgusting asshole had… had-_

Roy ignored the nurse, cursing her out internally instead. while sucking in a deep inhale.

He had decided.

He shifted closer to Edward, determined arms swooping him up into a tight embrace. Ed's initial reaction was to tear himself away, but with a missing arm and his broken one aching- there wasn't that much he could do. He squirmed violently in the grip before the soothing voice got through to his panic-stricken brain and the familiar smell of sulfur and bonfire that was permanently ingrained in the colonel's hair and skin. “You're okay, I won't let anyone hurt you. I'm here, you're here and... not _there_.”  
  
Roy could hardly hear the quiet mantra of the mess in his lap, repeating the words " _it's my_ _hair,"_ over and over again.

No, Roy wasn't going to ask the doctor for the details of the assault. If Edward was ever ready to tell, he would be there to listen. Playing the part of a parental figure, however- that was out of the question too. Edward would never allow it. But, he knew he had to leave his role as his superior for the time being.

Because Ed was  _not_ okay.

* * *

Riza had waited for their return in the waiting room. Roy and Riza only communicated with their gaze as Roy walked a couple of steps behind Edward who had refused any sort of assistance. If it was to watch his back or to catch him if he collapsed again, he wasn't sure. Riza had tilted her head in understanding when Roy gave her a sad smile.

Edward marched past her and through the exit. The feeling of fresh air hit his face and it felt like he was finally able to breathe again. He sunk down on a bench, letting the night's chill breeze cool down his flustered cheeks. Letting his eyes close, he sat there for a moment- _just feeling_.

Mustang and Hawkeye stopped a couple of feet from him, letting him have the moment to himself.  They didn't speak. The only thing any of them were able to do, was observing the way Ed's hair blew freely in the wind, covering his expression. Roy wondered it had a soothening effect on him. They let him sit there for a while, hopeful that he was trying to cope with the night's events and not spiraling into the darkness that menacingly lurked in the back of all of their minds after what had happened.

But, there was no way for them to really know what he was thinking.

“How's the arm?” Riza asked suddenly, soft-spoken but not drenched in pity like the way everybody else seemed to be talking to Ed.

“Fine,” he murmured after a short break, getting up from the bench on unsteady feet and tried to gather his loose hair over his shoulder.

“I'll take you home,” Roy said. “Alphonse must be worrying about you.”

Edward didn't answer, but nodded faintly and walked towards the car.

“I guess I'll see you at the office,” Riza told Roy.

“Yes,” he sighed. “Good night.”

* * *

The car ride felt tense as the silence turned almost unbearable. Roy wanted to say something- anything, that might make Edward feel more at ease. Ed had voluntarily sat in the back, sliding his swollen fingers through the heap of blonde strands laying over his absent shoulder and stared apathetically out the window.

“What are you going to tell Al?” Mustang heard himself say. Obviously not the right thing to ask if he wanted the kid to feel at ease, he thought to himself.

“I'll tell him what happened,” Edward mumbled.

“Really?” Roy asked in surprise. If there was one person he'd thought would be kept completely in the dark about this, it was Edwards younger brother.

“Yeah, why shouldn't I?” He looked dumbly at Roy for a second and turned back to the window. “I met a crazy mechanic, he knocked me out and stole my automail.”

Oh… _oh_.

“Edward...” Roy looked anxiously at the boy from the rearview mirror.

“ _Because that's what happened,_ ” Ed sneered, honoring Roy with a poisonous glare and slightly raising his rickety voice.

Roy gave out a reflexive exasperated breath, making Ed look uncertainly at his elder.

“Did- did you retrieve it, by the way?” he asked wearily.

“Your arm? Yes, it's in the trunk,” Roy replied and took another glance in the rearview. Edward looked like he was pondering over something. When he finally spoke, it was one of the last things Roy expected to hear the voice of his hot-tempered subordinate utter.

“Do you, do you think you can help me to reattach it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment to let me know if you enjoyed it or if you have some constructive critisism! I usually try to incorporate people's feedback into the next chapter, so it's really helpful!


	5. Chapter 5

Roy stopped the car outside of the Elric brother's apartment. He wasn't sure if he had made the right desition or not when denying to aid Ed in reattaching his automail.

It wasn't that he didn't want to help, it was just... he had never done that before. He was sure Al would be a better suited candidate. After all, he had done it countless times, in spite of the fact that he had been in a suit of armor when it happened.

Edward had seemingly withdrawn even further into himself after the refusal and Roy wrecked his brain for _anything at all,_ that might make the teen feel better.

 _'I am such an asshole,'_ he decided when he still hadn't thought of anything before pulling in to the parking lot in front of their apartment.

"Are you going to be fine getting inside on your own?" he asked, but didn't get an answer. Edward only opened the door with his injured arm and closed it with his hip, with an overwhelmingly forceful motion that seemingly drained him of all the fight that was still left in his tiny body.

Roy cursed himself for being such a wuss. He should have just gotten out of the vehicle and opened the god damn door and _helped_ him. Instead, he had practically made _Ed_ ask for help if he _wanted_ it. _The stubborn kid would never admit to not being able to take care of himself._

Edward didn't bother to look back after closing the door behind him. He kept his back facing the car, and walked towards the steps with an _-almost-_ unnoticeable limp.

Roy didn't want to even _think_ about what that might suggest that Edward had been subjected to, but he couldn't help the unsettling feeling of realizing exactly _that._

_'Fuck! Why did he have to be such an unsensitive tool?'_

Quickly, he rolled his window up.

"Ed!" he yelled, way too loud for this time of night.

Edward turned around, looking painfully defeated and heartbreakingly distraught.

"Listen, kid..." Roy started, but stopped abruptly when he notices the way Ed was swaying in his stance.

" _Ed?_ " Roy asked, quickly and clumsily reaching for the door-handle as Ed's eyes rolled back in his skull and he collapsed to the ground.

"Shitmotherfuck-" Roy sneered and leaped out of the car, not bothering to close the door behind him. He ran to Ed's side and felt for a pulse. Relief washed over him as it seemed to beat steadily against his middle and index finger. After checking that the back of his head hadn't cracked open on impact, he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, and carefully picked his youngest subordinate up, careful not to jostle him too much.

By the time he had started to climb the stairs, the door on the top had opened and a yawning head peeked outside. Alphonse's. Likely,ready to scold his older brother for making him worry so much. But, at the sight of the general with Ed in his arms, he immediately shut his mouth, eyebrows furrowing with worry.

"Wha-what's going on general? What happened to brother?" Even if he had already grown to be nearly a foot taller than his older brother, his voice still tended to get a child-like tone whenever he was feeling anxious, mainly and most commonly because of his brother.

Al stepped away to give Roy and Ed space to get inside and closed the door behind them.

"His room is in here," Al said quietly, opening another door immediately after they had come out of the small hallway.

Roy noted that the boys still had a very limited amount of possessions, except for the mountains of books that seemed to appear in every creak of the small apartment. _Maybe he had some old furniture stored someplace in his ridicoulously oversized house that he could donate._

"Uh, well, it's a long story," Roy said, forcing his voice to be soft and calm. "It looks worse than it is," he lied. He knew he did, but he wasn't going to tell Alphonse anything Edward didn't want him to, even if he thought that Ed was being an _idiot_ for wanting to keep this from his own brother. _Even if it was understandable._

"But, his arm and... _his face_. And his _other arm!"_ Al exclaimed distressed, only now noticing the missing arm, _or_ , the arm in the cast, Roy couldn't know for sure.

"Oh, Yeah... That reminds me, his automail is still in my trunk," Roy mumbled, muffling his words while sliding his palm across his face.

"What _happened?"_ Al demanded again, sitting down next to his brother's lifeless form on the bed, lightly caressing the side of Ed's face, mindful of his cuts and bruises.

Again, the general sighed. He didn't want to lie to Al, but he didn't want to betray Ed either.

"Apparently, some mechanic... knocked him out and stole his automail," he explained lamely.

"Bu-but," Al looked confused and gestured to all of Ed, who did indeed look like something far, _far_ more gravely had happened to him.

Roy frowned and shrugged. "I'm sorry Al, that's all he told us." It was clear that Alphonse didn't buy in to the story one bit, but that had to be Ed's problem to solve. _One of many_. The younger teen knew just as well as he did, that if Ed had put his mind to it, there was no way of persuading him into backing down.

"I'll get the automail," he said instead and walked out of the apartment before Al could protest any further.

After a couple of minutes _(he needed to breathe for a moment before entering again),_ he returned to see Alphonse patting Ed's face with a cold cloth, easy and compassionate motions while speaking to him so quietly that Roy couldn't make out the words.

"Does he have a fever?" he asked, hesitant.

"Slightly," was all Al answered.

Mustang cleared his throat, leaving the arm on a book-covered desk in Ed's bedroom.

"He, uh, asked me to help re-attach it, but I assume that you two can deal with that in the morning," he said, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable with interrupting such a beautiful and tender moment between the brothers.

"Oh, I, uh... No, I- I can't do it," he admitted, cementing his gaze at the floor, filled with shame.

"Nonsense, I've seen you do it plenty of times," Roy retorted, feeling just as shameful for his unwillingness to help.

"Yeah, but that was… _before_." Al got up from the bed, walking towards the general, indicating with a small wave for him to follow.

They entered a small living room and kitchen combo, with a small island with barstools as a room divider.

"Do you want some tea?" Al asked, looking at the general who held up a hand in silent decline. Alphonse still poured himself a cup.

"This is probably my sixth cup tonight," he chuckled humorless, before rounding the island and sitting on the brown leather couch. Roy sat in a matching armchair.

There was a short pause before Al finally spoke.

"If you'd be so kind, _please_ come back tomorrow and help Ed with his automail arm," Alphonse pleaded desperately. Roy couldn't help his heart from breaking at the sight of those sad doe-eyes. They were perhaps not as brightly golden as Ed's, but they were still _painfully effective._

"Why can't you do it? I've never done something like that before," Roy explained.

"I know, I just... I _can't_ do that to him again. I spent such a long time in that armor that- that I forgot what _pain_ felt like. Ever since I regained the ability to feel it, I just... I _can't inflict that on brother_. He has _so much_ of it already, and I- the last time I helped him, _the first time in my flesh body,_ I cried for hours after. Inside of the armor, I was protected from any physical pain, but I had _no idea_ how much the _emotional pain_ could be felt inside of my body too, since... since it _protected_ me for _so many years._ I can't general, I really can't!"

His eyes were watering and a few tears spilled over, lips trembling and reminding Roy too much of Edward just a few hours before, right after that... that _vile human being_ had perverted the _too-young-and-troubled-Ed._

Roy's neck stopped holding the weight of his head and he needed to rest it in his hands.

"Fine," he muttered silently. "I'll do it. I... I'm going to reattach the arm."

"Really? I mean, if it wouldn't be too much trouble. We could perhaps make a call to Winry, but it'll take _days_ before she's going to be able to travel here, and it's expensive and she'll have to rebook all of her other appointments and..."

"I said it's _fine_!" Roy didn't mean to raise his voice, but he noticed his agitation too late to do anything about it. Al looked somewhere between heartbroken and horrified. Roy, realizing that he had never raised his voice like that to Al- _well, in front of Al, sure_ , _but it was always directed towards the older of the two_ \- regretted it immidietly.

" _Shit_ , Al, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. It's been a long evening, that's all."

Alphonse fidgeted with his thumbs, not daring to look at his direction, whispering a sorrow-filled " _I'm_ _sorry_."

_How much more could Roy even fuck it up tonight. He should probably bring Maes tomorrow, as some sort of asshole-filter._

"Really, Alphonse. It's no trouble at all. As I said, it's been a long night and I'm tired and... worried," he nodded towards Ed's room. "...and, it's just been a shitty night."

Al didn't smile, but finally peeked up from the intense glare at his hands, giving the general a nod in understanding.

"He is concussed, so he should be woken up once every hour," Roy revealed reluctantly. Alphonse gave him another nod, not seeming to mind staying up the rest of the night one bit. _'He's a saint, this boy. What the hell went wrong the first time around?'_

"And his left hand is broken," he continued, suddenly remembering the bottle of strong painkillers he had pocketed for him, retrieving it and handing it over to the young man.

"Just follow the instructions, and it will be fine." Roy tried to remember if there was anything else of immediate importance he should tell Al before he left, when he remembered the bill with all of the prescriptioned medications. The prescripted medications that would most likely reveal _everything_ Ed had been through that night.

_He decided to see if he would be able to go to the pharmacy before he came to attach Ed's arm the next day, disguising them with a couple of get-well presents._

Roy got up to leave before he remembered the very strict message the doctor had given him. He reluctantly turned to face Alphonse once again.

"Oh, and Al..." he started, biting his lip as the heaviness of the words finally hit him. "He shouldn't be left alone."

Alphonse Elric was no naïve young boy- _well, he was_ \- but not when it came to his older brother. They both could read each other like an open book, and the fact that Alphonse really had no _idea exactly_ what could _possibly have actually happened_ to Ed this time, made him even more certain that it had to be bad.

Roy was also hiding something, but if it was the same suspicion of Ed not telling the whole truth, or if he actually knew something he didn't tell, Al wasn't sure.

All Al _knew_ for sure, was that he was not going to let Edward be alone for a single second for the next couple of days, or at least until Ed told Alphonse _everything_ to the point that he was satisfied he knew what had happened.

Alphonse sagged into the cozy sofa with his cup of tea, before placing it back on the coffee table, getting up and walking back to his brother's room, where Ed was still unconscious, _or_ , fast asleep.

Al looked at Ed's sleeping form, noticing how many of the buttons on his shirt was torn off. There were only three buttons that were left and buttoned, and he also wore an unfamiliar navy cardigan. Sighing, Al went to get Ed a more comfy sleeping attire, choosing an oversized white t-shirt that he _knew_ had belonged to their father.

He imagined that it still held the smell of him, even if he had been too young to remember anything about him from before, until they met again, a few years back. Then, Al didn't have a sense of smell. But there was a slight odor of aftershave to the shirt, that Ed did not use. The smell of aftershave blended perfectly with the scent of Edward's shampoo, a mix of spices and coconut that was in no way unpleasant.

It smelled like home, family and... in spite of Ed's understandably difficult relationship with their father, _love._

Alphonse sat down on the bed and gingerly opened the few buttons left on Ed's shirt. Once again, tears spilled from Al's eyes. The bruises and lacerations on Ed's chest caught him off guard. Several of the cuts were covered, clearly having been stitched up, but the bruises... the bruises were shaped like _hands_. Heavy large hands that must have forced his brother _down._

Alphonse couldn't help the sound that left his throat. A guttural and honest _sob,_ in reaction to the state of his older brother.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this anymore, Ed," he croaked with a choked voice. "You _promised_ me. You weren't going to get hurt again."

The guilt struck him in the gut like a blow. The only reason Edward was still here, and not back in Risembool with his fiancè, was that Alphonse wanted to attend university. 

Alphonse, he didn't want to be _alone_ because he had felt _so fragile_ in his new flesh and blood body.

_He felt so many things, got anxious and scared and didn't understand what was happening inside of his body. The feeling of a stomach ache had made him break down and cry and think that he was dying._

There was no way Ed was going to leave him on his own in Central. So, he had decided to stay in the military until Al was done with university. And now, _Ed was hurt again._

_And it was all Al's fault._

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I love to receive comments with constructive criticism and thoughts on the story and my writing/wording/phrasing. English isn't my first language, so I'm always looking to improve!
> 
> Also, if there's any wishes or suggestions of how the story will progress, I usually try to incorporate them to the best of my abilities!
> 
> Stay awesome!


	6. Chapter 6

Once back in his car, Roy felt the need to rest his head on the steering wheel for a moment. This day had escalated _so far_ beyond his wildest imagination, considering how he just a few hours back had tried to decide whether or not to wear a tie to an unofficial report from some unimportant, waste-of-their-time bullshit mission, before driving off to pick up Fullmetal.   
  
About six hours ago, Edward was still just... Fullmetal. His young subordinate, pain in the ass and constant worry.

Ever since the boys had managed to get Alphonse's body back and Ed decided to stay in the military, Ed seemed to try to distance himself from his persona as the Fullmetal Alchemist. All this time, Roy had written it off as some stupid teenage angst rebellion thing. The thought of Edward trying to separate himself from his former self- the one obsessed with finding the philosopher's stone and walking and talking as loudly as he possibly could, with his platform boots and fiery red coat flaring behind him, seemed a bit sad. Maybe he would actually miss the small, hot-headed idiot that was constantly and intentionally trying to get under his skin.   
  
But now, the kid doing anything in his power to separate himself with that child and the military, simply translated to the fact that their young Edward was growing up.   
  
_Too fast still._   
  
And still being forced to, considering tonight's events.

He felt a sick feeling in his stomach by the reminder and hastily stopped the car at the first chance he got. Unsteadily, he got out of the car and wrenched his guts out, spilling all the toxic thoughts and feelings from the day's events into a ditch between the Elrics' apartment and his house. 

* * *

 ****Alphonse didn't stop crying for a while that night. That was something he had missed, even _longed_ for, in his metal body. Now, it was a pain. Every time he shed a tear, he couldn't seem to stop. Five years inside a suit of armor seemed to leave a lot of catching up to do- not only the pleasant things like new foods to taste and physical contact. There were a lot of _agonies too._ Never... well, _almost_ never, for his own self. Mostly his tears were shed for his brother.   
  
He hadn't actually felt any kind of true pain since the day Truth lay its first digit on him all those years ago, until the day he finally was back in his flesh and blood body. Except for the few times, the despair he felt for his brother's recklessness became too much and he imagined that he physically felt it, even if he didn't, not actually...

There were far greater sensations that he currently experienced every day now, but whenever the hurt came, he almost missed his armor.

He was still adjusting. He tried not to show it, but Edward read him like a book. After all, he had lived with him in an unfeeling body for all those years and learned to read his expressions and the tone of his voice. Alphonse wasn't sure if he would ever be able to get rid of those quirks that he adopted to convey his feelings in the best way he was able to, while not having an actual face to express it with.

The night proceeded unbearably slowly, with Alphonse staying at his brother's bedside. Every hour, he dutifully woke him up, letting him go to sleep again as soon as his eyes fluttered open, staring aimlessly at the ceiling. A wave of worry flushed through Alphonse. His brother awoke, but his gaze never truly met his. 

He wasn't sure if it was because of the injury or if it was simply just his brother being awakened, too tired to actually stay that way. But there was something about the marks on Edward's body that made him think that there was a third option that he didn't really want to ponder on.

* * *

When the morning hours' rays of sunshine crept their way between the curtains of the worn-down bedroom, Al decided to call the university and tell them that he had to stay home. Even if he felt very conflicted about missing class, he needed to be there for his brother when he woke up.   
  
He explained to his counselor that Edward had been hurt the night before, as he had never been comfortable with lying- even before he was sealed to the armor and lost his expressions and maybe especially after he gained them back. Also, he knew that most of the professors were well aware of the two's situation and had knowledge about his brother's research during his years in the military. His guidance counselor was very understanding, asking him to send his best regards to his older brother, as well as insuring him that he would get a report from today's lessons.

 _Al secretly hoped it would be from his lab partner, a Xiganeese girl named Mei._   
  
A loud yawn forced its way through Alphonse's whole being, reminding him of the lack of sleep when suddenly, there was a couple of quick raps at the door. Alphonse opened to meet Roy standing with a brown paper bag in hands, mirroring his own exhausted form.  
  
“Good morning,” the general greeted with what was supposed to be a compassionate smile, but ended up looking more like an uncertain frown. “I brought some... stuff. How was the night?”   
  
Another yawn escaped Al at the reminder, as he took a step back, letting Roy inside. “Long,” he answered honestly. “I've been waking him up every hour as you said.”

“Has he told you anything?”   
  
“Uh, no. He bearly opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling.” Alphonse thought about the marks he had seen on his brother's hips and wanted to ask the General if he knew anything about it, but before he could ask, Roy interrupted him.   
  
“What do you mean? Did you get any contact at all?” His eyebrows arched to a deep furrow between his eyes, as the uncertainty he previously felt turned into urgency, onyx eyes instinctively brushing the hallway and resting at the creaked door of Edward's bedroom. 

“Not really, what...” Alphonse's concern went from ten to eleven when Roy let the paper bag fall to the floor and turned to check on Edward. Without hesitation, he entered the barren bedroom with Alphonse following closely behind.   
  
“General, what's going on?” Alphonse asked anxiously, stopping in the doorway as if scared to what would meet him once he crossed the threshold.  
  
“I should have explained this more thoroughly Alphonse, I'm so sorry. You needed to talk to him to make sure he was coherent through the night.”   
  
Alphonse's eyes grew wide, lips parting slightly, unable to get a single word out.  
  
Roy turned his attention to the problem at hand, Edward. His youngest subordinate who he had witnessed grow from a snotty-nosed brat to a snotty-nosed young man in fewer years than a child was supposed to. He felt his heart slowly breaking to pieces at the sight of the unconscious boy. The bruises on his face had grown bigger and darker during the night, the swelling gluing his eye shut. Several new bruises had appeared too, making last night's battered face look absolutely annihilated.  
  
Tryingly, he shook at his shoulder. “Edward?” he asked in an uncharacteristically soft voice. The boy didn't stir. “Hey, Edward?” he tried again, a little louder this time.   
  
A small sigh was heard from the exhausted body on the bed, a small tongue peeking through slightly parted lips, adding some much-needed moisture. He uttered some illegible sounds that slowly turned into broken words of pleas. “Nngh, no... no.”   
  
“Edward? You need to wake up,” Roy inquired carefully, resting a hand on his shoulder. His stomach felt like it was filled with ice when the sleeping kid tried to shrug him off with sluggish, bearly comprehensible movements.   
  
“Don't touch... me... don't... want it... _Please._ ” Ed's voice cracked at the last word, almost as harshly as Mustang's soul broke when tears escaped the tightly shut eyes and a scarred mouth soured into a pained scowl.

“Edward, it's me, Mustang. You know... _General Bastard_...” the words that came out felt like acid in his throat, but the kid only curled further in on himself. Roy's fist hardened around the surprisingly fatigued shoulder, while he desperately shook his subordinate more violently, trying to force him awake from the captor inside his dreams. “Fullmetal, I need you to wake up, _now!_ That's an order!” Roy didn't mean for his voice to sound so agitated, but it had the desired effect.  
  
Edward startled awake, golden eyes glaring daggers at the offending hand. A little too late, Roy realized that it wasn't his words that had awakened the boy. It was his touch.   
  
Edward was torn away in the middle of the assault, ready to fight back now that his body was freed. He flung his automail arm at his target, ready to hear a bone-crunching crack on impact. He missed, so that never happened though. Instead, he flew forward, letting his modest mass do the job. The man in front of him let out a sneer as Ed landed on top of him. Edward tried to get back on his feet, but none of his arms were obeying the demands his brain was trying to send out to them.  
  
Two strong limbs were wrapped around him. _'Shit, why isn't my automail working?'_ Panic-stricken, he jerked his body away, but the strong arms weren't budging. His efforts were cut short when his brain began to register the _immense pain_ he feltin his body. His left arm was throbbing, while his automail port on his right shoulder radiated electric shocks through exposed nerve endings, making his chest twitch painfully. There was also... well, _everything else._ His whole being was in twisting agony.  
  
Muffled words were starting to make their way through his consciousness. In one last desperate hope for freedom, he arched his aching back, flinging his head back blindly in hope to connect with _something_. It awarded him with nothing, except for a hollow _thud_ as his head made an impact with the floor.   
  
“Edward!”   
  
“Nonono... _no_...” he wept, hiding his face in his left arm; but hesitating as the sweaty and foul flesh he expected to ingulf him, felt warm, familiar and pleasant.  
  
“Brother!”   
  
_'Al?'_ Recognition dawned upon him. He was at home. He was at home in his bed, _well, not anymore, clearly._ But he was _here_ and not... _there._  
  
He was on his bedroom floor, legs entangled in his blanket and being embraced by his bro-   
  
Uh, no. ... _No. No!  
  
_ “Get the hell away from me Mustang!” As soon as Edward was able to free his legs from the soft fabric, he kicked towards the man that was currently holding him down by his shoulders.   
  
“Stop that brother, he was only trying to help!” Alphonse scolded from somewhere inside the room, but Edward didn't hear him. His mind went completely blank and because of the restrains he... he  _couldn't think couldn't process everything- anything, couldn't -breathe...  
  
“Can't breathe-” _he gasped, a sickening labored squeal.  
  
All of a sudden, the hands that were holding him down disappeared. Stifled voices tried to breach through the water's edge as he looked up, on vague outlines of two people, obscured by the subtle waves on the surface. His lungs were screaming for air, forcing his body to inhale even if he _knew_ there was no use. His lungs would only fill up with water if he did, but instinctively, he did it anyway, chocking as the oxygen refused to come back to him. Desperately, he reached out to the apparitions over him.   
  
_I'm drowning.  
  
Please, help!  
  
Can't breathe-  
  
_A hand grabbed his, the same hand that moments ago held him down. Held him down under the water and tried to- to... _comfort him?  
  
_ “Come on Fullmetal, come back to us.” A hand patted him on the cheek. The water that had previously surrounded him and threatened to devour him was now a soft, luke-warm drizzle.   
  
“Brother, _please,_ ” Alphonse's distraught voice bothered him greatly, but strangely also soothed him like balm on an insect bite.   
  
Puffed honey eyes flickered, searching wearily after the source of his comfort.   
  
“Al?” he croaked breathlessly, a heavy left hand waving blindly for his little brother. His rock. His foundation.  
  
“I'm right here Edward, don't worry.” The sad smile of the younger Elric came into view- the beautiful smile Edward was so sure could provide world peace. The most endearing and healing sight he could ever imagine, that he and he alone, had robbed the world of for five _(and what seemed to be neverending)_ years.   
  
Without warning, a choked sob escaped his throat as he clawed at his brother's shirt to get closer. Alphonse obliged without hesitation, huddling closer to the trembling mess of unruly blonde locks, joining him under the drizzle of the shower.   
  
Once Ed was able to regain some composure, he sensed some sort of presence behind his back. Slowly, he turned his head to see Roy standing awkwardly above them, showerhead in hand.   
  
Edward took his time turning his attention back to his brother, before asking in a forced restrained voice. “Al, why are we in the shower with general Mustang?”   
  
The phrase seemed strange even to _his_ concussed mind, and even if it would indicate that something was _seriously wrong_ with him, he kinda hoped it was a hallucination.   
  
“Uh, he, we- uh,” Alphonse stuttered before Mustand sprung into action, taking a long step over the heads of the brothers, getting out of the shower.  
  
“Edward, you were having a pretty severe flashback... _of some sort_ ,” he hurried to add. “We couldn't get through to you, so we took you in here, hoping the water would break you out of it.”   
  
Before Ed could rip his commanding officer a new one, Alphonse chimed in.  
  
“I've never seen you that bad Edward, not even after, you know, _the human transmutation._ ” He almost whispered those last words, as if the walls had ears. “Did it have something to do with what happened last night?”   
  
Ed and Roy exchanged looks, Roy's were questioning and Edward's were determent. ' _Don't you dare say a single word.'  
  
_ Instead, Edward slowly got up on shaky knees, steadying himself with his elbow on the shower glass. Alphonse exclaimed a silent _'oh'_  and got up to help him, placing a steadying hand under the remaining arm. Edward reluctantly leaned into his taller younger brother's side and let him support him out of the bath, through the living area and back to the bedroom.   
  
Roy stayed in the bathroom, placing a used towel over the now wet floor, before rummaging around the cupboards to find some clean ones to bring to Edward.   
  
He had no idea if he was doing the right thing by not telling Al what was actually going on. Al wasn't stupid, he already knew that there was _something someone_ didn't tell him. Edward had been involved in many violent fights where his life had been at risk. A simple mechanic trying to steel his automail arm, no matter the outcome, would never affect him to the point of blacking out like that.

Not when Alphonse had witnessed him fight homunculi, chimeras and whatever out worldly creatures that had been present on the Promised Day. The two brothers had even watched their mother die at a young age, learned alchemy on their own, trained with that... sadistic blood spewing butcher-woman and tried to resurrect their mother and having it all end in utter catastrophic failure and heartbreaking tragedy.  
  
Still, Alphonse said so himself- he had never seen his brother act like that.   
  
The brothers were in the middle of a hushed argument when Roy finally came in with the towels.   
  
“Just leave it, Al, it wasn't more than a stupid bar-fight.”   
  
“A stupid bar-fight? Roy said it was some crazy mechanic who tried to steal your automail!” Al seemed agitated and looked towards Mustang, who stood with the cloths in hands, looking back at them like a deer caught in headlights.   
  
“Well, yeah. That was... the premise of it all. Look, Al, it was just some creepy guy getting way too persistent on fiddling with my automail, 'kay? Can't we just leave it at that?”   
  
Roy gave Ed one of the towels, not offering any help to dry him off, leaving that to Al. A stack of dry clothes was already been laid on top of the bed beside him. A couple of steps back towards the other side of the room, he gave the last towel to Al, who had become moist himself when crawling into the shower to comfort Edward.  
  
Alphonse was leaning on the wall on the opposite side of the room with a tight scowl. “So, how 'bout those marks then?”   
  
The air between the two brother's seemed to freeze, and Roy contemplated leaving. Maybe even jump out of the window. It really wasn't his place to be here for something like this.   
  
“It's from broken glass, Al!” Edward shouted defectively back, not stirring the other in the slightest.   
  
“What kind of glass leaves fingermarks on someone's hips, Ed?” the tone of Alphonse's voice couldn't be softer or more pleading when uttering those venomous words, but they hit Edward like a brick from the sky.  
  
“W-what?” he choked out, voice weak and gaze averted.   
  
“I saw them, Edward, when changing you into your sleeping attire last night.”   
  
Edward looked like his whole world came crumbling down around him. His left arm was weakly tugging at the neck of his t-shirt.  
  
“F-finger..?” Edward tumbled to his feet, limping across the room and throwing the door of his closet open. Untidy shelves despite the few pieces of clothing came to show, but also a full-length mirror that was fastened to the door.   
  
Slowly, he gripped the hem of his shirt right by his hip and carefully lifted it, revealing a sliver of purpled skin. He gulped with a pained look in his eyes and dragged the wet shirt all the way off.   
  
_“I-I really hoped it was all just a dream,”_ he whispered, more to himself than anyone else in the room. Unable to move, he looked at himself with obvious dismay shown on his face, trailing the marks of the brutality that had been committed towards him the night before.   
  
“Ed...” Alphonse spoke tenderly, reaching out a hand and slowly moving towards him.   
  
“Get out,” Ed answered immediately.   
  
“Please, brother. Just talk to me-”   
  
“Get out!” Ed shouted and turned towards them with a wild look in his eyes. Roy decided it was best to do as they were told and grabbed Alphonse's arm and dragged the reluctant teen out of the room and closed the door behind them.   
  
Ed was left by himself with his absolutely _sickening_ reflection. The mirror that unrelentingly threw everything he had gone through in his short life and the completely uncensored version of what had happened last night, straight back at his face. A horrible reminder of what he had tried to twist into something else. Something he never thought would happen to _him.  
  
Because he was supposed to be the goddamn Fullmetal Alchemist- a hero of the fucking people. Not some poor broken _raped _young boy._  
  
The last thought was what shattered him. An animalistic growl cramped its way through his whole being, as he hurled his broken arm at the mirror.

When it wasn't enough, he powered up by also using his forehead, finally shattering it to oblivion, letting the silver rain of broken glass shower over him, leaving him on his knees, heaving for breath in between gutwrenching sobs and the small pieces, reflecting what had once been _the Fullmetal Alchemist scattered across the floor._  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'll try and update during the following week! I've been having a lot of trouble getting inspired lately. Probably because I've been living with my sister and two kids. I enjoy being an aunt part time. I don't think I have the energy to be one fulltime.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always feel like apologizing for late updates. But I rather post a chapter that I'm happy with, instead of updating just to update. Some days you can write 5000 words without blinking and the next day it's hard to even form a sentence. Especially when you don't even write in your native language, while still trying to keep some variety in your language and keep developing your writing skills. 
> 
> But I do want to update more frequently, and maybe putting that out there will help me to keep focus, instead of starting new stories and make more and more work for myself to feel bad about not updating! 

"Brother," Alphonse spoke worriedly as he heard the glass shatter behind the door and turned around, ready to burst back inside. Roy's steady hand on his shoulder stopped him from proceeding.

"Leave him," he said sternly. Alphonse froze for a moment and turned to face him. Conflicted hazel eyes peered back at him, and made Roy feel like his heart was about to weep for the brothers. One was petrified and overwhelmed, the other abused and in denial. Both probably equally distraught right about now.

"Just... let him get it out of his system," Roy told the scattered teen, hiding the uncertainty in his own voice as well as he could. Alphonse and Edward needed him to be the rock-solid foundation that helped to hold them at bay while this storm raged and its waves came crashing down on them.

He steadied his voice with a quiet cough, in fear of it breaking on him before he continued. "Trust me,  _he needs it._ Let him break the mirror, punch through the walls... just, let him...  _react_."

"But, what if he hurts himself?"

"Then let him," Roy enquired calmly. "We'll only be a room away. I think he needs some space for now."

Alphonse hung his head, rising his shoulders and letting them drop with a deep exhale. "Fine," he muttered and shuffled down the small hallway into the living room. Roy glanced a final time at the door, wondering if he did the right thing by keeping Alphonse from checking on him. He knew Edward was going to want to be alone for now, the brat was too stubborn for his own good and had his own way of dealing with difficult things. He had witnessed it time and time again.

The problem was, that it really wasn't a healthy coping mechanism. Admittedly, the two of them were extremely similar in that way. Roy knew that it always would lead to rash decisions and damaging behavior because the actions made in such a self-destructive haze were always too emotionally charged. And that was nothing but dangerous.

But, he would be a hypocrite if he expected anything from Edward that he wouldn't expect of himself, so he decided to push his internal turmoil aside for a while and go with his gut instinct; to leave it for now.

He slowly walked after Alphonse instead, finding him cleaning the dishes in a frenzy. Shaky hands rattling plates and cups when he placed them on the small dishrack by the sink, forceful hands scrubbing cutlery and pans with all the frustration that could possibly be coiled up inside a teenaged body that had been locked up inside an armored prison without the ability to feel for several years.

If there was one thing Roy  _did_ know, it was that the Elric brothers went through everything together. And, maybe particularly Alphonse, who had followed Edward through his years in the military, watching him put himself in danger every day, while he was unable to feel anything.

Al had developed an enormous amount of empathy and compassion while being trapped in that unfeeling body of armor. Such a sweet and gentle boy, looking like a brutal device that reminded people of war and killing. He had no other way of expressing his soft nature except wearing his iron-heart on his iron-sleeve, and show his none-armor human emotions with the entirety of his being.  
_  
Especially when his older brother was concerned. They were the only ones each other had left._

The problem was, that this just wasn't the time for Alphonse to be breaking down. Edward needed him to be strong, no matter how much anxiety the younger one was feeling at the moment. As horrible as it seemed, Roy needed Al to become that stoic armor again, just a while, for Ed's recovery. Get back into the role of Edward's moral compass and protector.

Roy only hoped that he didn't have to  _tell_  him that.

* * *

Edward was kneeling on the floor in the middle of shards upon shards of broken glass. Small pieces of sparkling bits of shattered mirror looked back on red-rimmed eyes- a million small reflections of an equally shattered Edward Elric. The Fullmetal alchemist who was thought to be though, stubborn and strong.

_Not someone who'd let themselves be overpowered by some fucking creep who didn't even need alchemy to make him paralyzed with fear._

_No._ What this one-armed and pathetic creature was, was anything but  _him_. The mirror reflected a broken, weak and useless child that had been broken beyond repair. And not just the night before-  _not the week before, nor the year_. He had been tearing at the seems for all of his short, sorry, pitiful life. This was just the last unrelenting pull needed to rip him all the way apart.

That wasn't news to him- it was probably not news to anybody. He had known all along that he was breaking, but something about last night's events just seemed to top the fucking cake and he wondered why he even bothered to try anymore.

Bothered to try to make amends, a difference- for Alphonse, himself or anyone else he'd hurt along the way. No matter what he did, it just turned out  _wrong._

He was never going to be anyone else but that small runt that had tried to fix the world but ended up leaving nothing but a trail of catastrophe and destruction behind wherever he went. Someone who would break anything or anyone that was unfortunate enough to lay its trust in him. Like Nina and Alexander, Winry and, the worst of all, Alphonse. His poor brother had been following his destructive path like a lost puppy all of his life _._

And for some unbelievable reason, even if they  _had_ fixed Alphonse's body ( _not as much_ 'they' _as their good-for-nothing-father who decided to swoop in at the last minute and be a dad for the first time in his goddamn life_ ), Alphonse still stuck around.

Ed couldn't understand why he would. Why he didn't run away from him as fast as humanly possible. Why didn't he hate him? He couldn't even fix his own mistakes.  
_  
_ And yet, Alphonse was still just his little brother that nobody outside of the military, and their somewhat unconventional make-shift family outside of Central, even  _knew_ had done  _so much_ for Amestris- because they needed to cover for  _his_ mistake- and Edward Elric, was still the  _Fullmetal Alchemist, goddamn hero of the people._

_No. He didn't deserve to be associated with that name. That wasn't him. Not now, nor had it ever._

And worst of all, he wasn't the big brother Al deserved.

Small droplets hit the floor and blended with the crimson spots he had left there after punching the mirror. He hadn't even realized that he was crying,  _again_. He didn't want to cry. I didn't deserve it _._ Ed examined his knuckles with absentminded curiosity when there were a couple of quick raps at the door.

Edward startled, instinctively covering his face with his single hand. He felt strange, electric spasms surge through his chest as the nerves connected to his automail reacted to the movement. His body wasn't used to not having a right arm and still acted as he did.

It was an odd sensation, almost a little painful. Like electricity streamed from his shoulder, through his chest and made his heart flap rapidly. He had gone shorter amounts of time without automail now and then in the past but never had he felt the port react in such a way.

He caught his breath as soon as the sensitivity of his metal shoulder died down and his heartbeat continued at a more regular pace.

"Edward?" he could hear Mustang ask from behind the door. He had no idea why, but his superior officer's concerned voice almost broke him. One part of him wanted to barricade the door shut, so no one could reach him and he could wallow in his self-pity for all eternity until he was no more, and a different part of him wanted to scramble to it- hurl it open and throw himself into the warm comfort of Mustang's arms and sob and wail and  _beg_ him to  _promise_  that he wasn't always going to feel like this, that everything was going to be all right and none of these feelings would last forever.

But he did neither. Instead, he didn't answer. He sat crumpled up and watched the door wearily until the doorknob turned and a black head of hair appeared in the doorway. Charcoal eyes looked anxiously around the room, on the fragments of glass and the beads of blood that surrounded a shaggy mess of blonde hair that sat coiled in on itself in the middle of the disarray.

"Ed-" Mustang proclaimed, only making the careful honey eyes that peered uneasily back at him recoil, and Ed curled even deeper in on himself- if even possible. He was ashamed. He was ashamed of what had happened to him, how he had reacted and what he now had done. He was ashamed of the broken glass on the floor, of having cut himself in the making and his whole entire being- only wanting to shed his skin like a reptile and leave the dirty old crust behind and be clad in a brand new, untouched cloak.

Roy sighed deeply. He was really at a loss. During his career in the military, he had dealt with a lot of shit. More unusual shit than this too;  _like the aftermath of two brothers having lost all or parts of their bodies after trying to resurrect their dead mother._

Still, he had no idea what to do right now. No idea what to say. Was there even a right thing to say? To do? It seemed like anything he tried only made it worse.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how one would angle it- Edward decided to speak, releasing Roy from his duties of trying to start a conversation about this undeniably sore subject.

"I'm ready to attach my automail," he muttered softly, still focused on the floor under him.

Mustang wasn't sure how to respond. Once more, he looked at the broken body a couple of feet from him. The tips of Edward's fringe was stained with blood from his knuckles, and drops had discolored parts of his cast.

"I would really like to take a look at your real hand first."

Edward shrugged, indifferent, before answering, "I's nothing, 's just..."

He glanced at his torn fingers, scrunching his brows in surprise at how the blood had started to paint the top of his cast in its crimson red. He cocked his head slightly, glaring at it as Roy crouched in front of him, grabbing a hold of his arm and frowning while scrutinizing the flared flesh.

"I need to remove the shards," Roy mumbled, turning Ed's arm carefully to check his palm too.

"Alphonse?" he asked, looking back at the door where Al was half-hidden behind the doorframe, scared to disturb his brother's seemingly calm demeanor. "Could you get us a pair of tweezers?"

The younger brother didn't hesitate to leave the pressing atmosphere to gather them from their medicine cabinet. No matter how much he wanted to be there for his brother, he was far too confused and uncertain about the situation, terrified of making things worse.

"Does it hurt?" Roy asked Ed, mostly to fill the silence with  _something_  while Al was away and hopefully, get Edward out of his catatonic state of mind.

"S'fine," the boy answered, bearly above a whisper. He didn't even pounder on it.

Roy winched at the thought of Edward answering such a question on autopilot, even if he should be used to it after having the kid as a subordinate for five years.

_After all, Edward had answered the same question just as automatically after being beaten up, stabbed, shot or in other ways severely injured, several times before._

Then, he cursed himself, realizing that he himself had put the teen in the position of having to lie about being fine, after being fucking stabbed and shot.

 _God, he was just a kid, What kid had the experience of having his flesh infiltrated by knives and bullets and lived to tell the tale?_  
  
Roy shook his head.  _No._ Him getting into that train of thought didn't help  _anyone_ right now. Especially not Edward. Edward didn't benefit from him getting down on himself. He needed to be calm and level headed. He needed to be the  _adult,_ and let Edward  _be the kid._

_For once._

"Edward?" he asked again, trying to get the teen's attention in fear having lost him while he was stuck in his own head. To his surprise, Ed answered with a shudder, almost toppling over on himself as a shaky breath tore at the golden boy's chest.

"What?" Edward asked tiredly. His eyes were shimmering and Roy knew that look.  _And he was sure he wanted to see Edward brought to tears just as much as Edward wanted_ him  _to see him brought to tears. Again._

"Just... making sure you're still with me," Roy muttered. His right arm itched- in a strange way. Not like an insect bite or the scab of a healing wound. Like, it was coming from its insides. As if it wanted to  _move._ Tryingly, he lifted his arm. Before even realizing it, it had reached out to touch the boy's shoulder, grabbing onto it in what he only  _hoped_ was in a reassuring and comforting way.

Edward's eyes followed the movement and rested on the arm as it settled, before looking back up into the general's eyes. Then, Ed hung his head, looking away as he leaned into the touch.

His cheek was warm and Roy wondered if he had a fever, but didn't say anything as Alphonse returned with the pliers and a box of band-aids.

"Should we move to the living room?" Roy suggested. He didn't get a reply. Edward was still just sitting there, leaning into his arm on his shoulder as if asleep.

Roy and Alphonse exchanged looks before Roy shifted and stood up, reaching his arm under Edward's and helped him to stand.

"Careful," he said quietly, as Edward stepped over the shards of broken glass and followed Roy and Al out of the room and through the hallway. They settled on the couch and Roy carefully treated Edward's new gashes, removing small particles from the open cuts and sterilized them, before covering them with several white bandages. Edward didn't flinch once.

Meanwhile, Alphonse had cleaned up the mess in the bedroom and was now gathering the tools they needed for the reattachment. He retrieved the arm from the desk and placed it gently amongst the wrenches and rags on the coffee table, and stood back expectantly as Roy hesitantly picked up the arm and looked at it. Edward didn't stir. He just sat there, looking at his newly bandaged hand.

"You should clean off the port first," Alphonse shot in. He was biting his nails again, feeling nervous and fidgety from the anticipation. He hated this. Always had, but now when he could feel pain again, he couldn't bear the thought of Edward going through such an amount of pain so regularly.

"Uh, oh, okay," Roy muttered and picked up the rag. It smelled strongly of alcohol.

"Just... make sure that it doesn't leak into the spaces between the parts, it will be really painful for brother if it comes in contact the nerves inside the port," Alphonse explained.

Roy looked tiredly at him. "You should probably do it."

Alphonse's eyes grew wide and he shook his head vigorously. "No- please, no. I don't..."

"You're doing it," Edwards voice suddenly cut through Al's pleads. Weary eyes peering up at Roy, sincere and exhausted. "It's fine. We'll guide you through it, right Al?"

Al nodded spasticity in return. Roy frowned, but raised the rag again, and started to clean inside the shoulder port, careful not to squeeze the cloth and spill out any of the alcohol.

"Is there anything, in particular, I should look for right now?" he asked, squinting at the grey metal, feeling like an elephant inside a glasshouse.

"Just that there's no oil, dust or other particles inside before you place the arm."

Roy nodded and continued wiping until he was satisfied that it looked okay and that there was nothing that looked out of place.

"What now?"

"You place the arm. He doesn't feel that, since the nerves aren't connected yet, so don't worry about that. There are some tracks inside the port that fits with the joint of the automail, you just need to place that accurately. You really can't do anything wrong with this step."

"Are you saying that I can do something wrong in the next step?"

"Not if you follow directions," Ed said weakly. Roy could almost sense a smirk in his tone, as he sat, leaned into the armrest of the couch, pale and drenched in sweat, looking moments from unconsciousness.

Scowling at the kid, Roy lifted the prosthetic arm, once again surprised by the weight of it, and placed it in the port. Edward jumped back as it came in contact with him. Quickly, Roy retracted the automail with shaky arms and looked, startled, at the kid.

"What? Are you okay? What happened? Did I hurt you?" Roy threw the questions at him in a panic. Edwards's shoulders trembled slightly. Roy wondered if he was crying for a second when the chucks became clearer.

He was laughing.

"Gotcha," Edward snickered, gleaming up between unruly bangs. Roy looked with arched eyebrows between the brothers. Alphonse stood a couple of feet from them, hand covering his mouth to hide his smile.

"Goddamn kids," Roy growled half-heartedly. Between the confusion, stress, and worry, he felt an enormous amount of relief from the little gag. He put the arm back, admittedly more carefully this time, and heard the small  _click_ as it settled into place.

"Is this okay?" he asked, not taking his eyes off of the artificial limb.

"Looks all right," Al stated, shifting to get a closer look at it and nodded in confirmation. "Now, if you see right here," Al pointed it out, "there's a bolt. That's why you need the wrench. Turning it will activate the nerves, basically."

Roy looked densely at him, before nodding and grabbing the wrench and inserted it onto the screw.

"Are you sure you want me to do this?"

"Just get it over with bastard," Ed snarled. Alphonse turned his back to them, not wanting to watch. He felt guilty for not being able to stomach it, but Roy had it under control, he was sure.

"Just make sure that you turn it all the way around right away, so there won't be any unnecessary pain for him," he informed lastly, before covering his ears.

Roy noticed the way Edward looked at his brother with such pain and guilt. Such a stupidly typical thing for the selfless brothers, always being more concerned with the other ones well being. But, at least it added up, somewhat.

Roy breathed heavily, grabbing the wrench tightly. "Are you ready?" he asked.

Edwards's eyes were closed, but he nodded curtly, so Roy turned the wrench in one, steady motion until it stopped moving by itself. A shock was sent through the fatigued body of his young subordinate, and a heavy grunt left his throat. Roy waited intently for the trembling to stop, hand dawdling by the handle of the tool.

Suddenly, a growl roared through the room. Roy wasn't sure if that was supposed to happen, but something definitely seemed wrong. Edward was twisting and wrenching his body in clear discomfort, eyes shut tightly and sweat dripping from his forehead. He slid down into a lying position, grabbing his shoulder harshly and heaving for breath.

Alphonse turned around quickly, his face expressing shock and fear, reflecting Roy's own.

"Get it off get it off get it off!" Ed forced out in a thick, sick voice. His legs were kicking restlessly on the sofa.

"What's wrong?" Roy demanded, looking to Alphonse and back to Edward, right hand on Ed's cheek, thumb stroking and wiping unvoluntary tears away, and the left holding him down with a light touch, so he wouldn't coil off the couch.

"Ed, are you alright? What's going on?"

"The f-fucker messed with the wires! He fucking messed with the wires!" Ed yelled, choked and out of breath, clawing at the port.

Alphonse rushed to get a hold of the wrench, quickly turning it and releasing the agitated nerves. Edward roared in pain as his automail disconnected. His back arched and his face scrunched into a horrible grimace, as the aftershock twitched through his body.

"Ed?" Alphonse asked, lightly shaking his flesh shoulder.

Beads of perspiration fell from an ash grey face before the lights went out, sending him into the deep abyss of unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! Hope you liked it. Please leave a Kudo and maybe even a comment? (and yell at me if I haven't updated in a while! I'm weak to peer pressure).
> 
> I also have another ongoing FMA fic called Family Ties (my first ever, AU) that you can check out while waiting for the next chapter!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over 2,000 hits! That's amazing! Thank you all so much!

_Last chapter:_

_"Ed, are you alright? What's going on?"_

_"The f-fucker messed with the wires! He fucking messed with the wires!" Ed yelled, choked and out of breath, clawing at the port._

_Alphonse rushed to get a hold of the wrench, quickly turning it and releasing the agitated nerves. Edward roared in pain as his automail disconnected. His back arched and his face scrunched into a horrible grimace, as the aftershock twitched through his body._

_"Ed?" Alphonse asked, lightly shaking his flesh shoulder._

_Beads of perspiration fell from an ash grey face before the lights went out, sending him into the deep abyss of unconsciousness._

* * *

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-" Roy was pacing back and forth in the small living room, grasping at his hair restlessly. What the hell had just happened?

Alphonse was following him tiredly with his gaze, seated next to his unconscious brother, gently stroking his hair back in a comforting manner. "You didn't know, general. It's not your fault-"

Roy's head snapped towards him, and he stopped his trotting for a moment to answer. "How do you know that? I probably did something wrong! I don't know anything about automail. I  _told_ him I shouldn't be the one to do that!"

"General,  _please!_ I'll take a look at the arm, okay? But, I'm sure that if brother felt there was something wrong with the wiring, there was. He's had it for a really long time, so he should know."

Roy drew a long and steadying breath and massaged his temples.  _Again,_ he had made it worse. He'd tried to help but ended up causing more pain and suffering, just like he always seemed to do. For the first time in his life, he longed for his desk with the endless stacks of paperwork, and the menacing clack of Hawkeye's Glock whenever he tried to steal a moment of shut-eye.

He looked towards the sofa where the two boys were. Al had scooted over and was now leaning over the table, exploring the automail limb with a worry between his eyebrows. Ed was still asleep, with or without the ability to wake up at the moment. He seemed to be shivering slightly, and Roy decided to try and be of some use, fetching a blanket from Edward's bedroom and draping it over the boy.

"Did you find anything?" he asked Alphonse, who had moved over to the window for some brighter light.

"I-I'm not sure, I don't..."

 _'I knew it; I fucked up, I failed him, I hurt him, I-'_  Roy thought frantically.

"Listen, I don't know enough about it to be sure what the problem might be," Al tried to reassure his agonized elder. The truth was that Al knew, not expertly, but enough, to determine that there wasn't anything wrong with the limb itself. Still, there really wasn't a way for Mustang to have done anything wrong. Despite the delicate process of attaching the port itself, and the intricate mechanic of the prosthetic, the attachment itself was, besides painful, pretty simple.

"But I do know that you didn't do anything wrong. I should probably call Winry though."

Roy agreed. A bit of relief rushed through him, feeling a little more at ease now that he was (almost) convinced that he wasn't entirely at fault.

Alphonse looked at his brother's sleeping form, noting that he was still shuddering under the warmth of the woolen blanket. The fever might have picked up from the failed connection. Not that it was too uncommon for Edward to catch a bit of a fever when his port had been through a little more trauma than usual. The nerve endings were extremely sensitive.

Leaving the room, he picked up the receiver to the phone that was hung on the wall in the entrance and called to the workshop Winry was interning at in Rush Valley. It didn't take long before a penetratingly cheery voice answered.

 _"Garfield's Automail Workshop, you're speaking with the high and mighty himself!"_  the voice singsonged. Al smiled as he remembered the flamboyant man.

"Mr. Garfield, this is Alphonse Elric," Al greeted. A sharp inhale followed from the receiver.

 _"Oh! Young Alphonse. It's so nice to hear your voice again! Oh my, you sound all grown up, don't you!"_  
  
Alphonse chuckled. Mr. Garfield hadn't seen him in his human form yet, and oh how disappointed he would be when his body didn't match that hulking suit of armor.

"I guess, but I actually really need to talk to Winry. Is she available?"

He heard the eager man yell for Winry to come over, before asking Al to hang on for a moment. A couple of seconds later, Winry was on the phone.

 _"This is Winry,"_ a high pitched voice creaked through the receiver, sounding lively and energetic.

"Hey Win, it's Al-" was all he was able to say before he could actually  _feel_ the chill through the phone.

_"What has he done to my automail this time?"_

Al imagined her eyebrows creasing and lips pursing dangerously, as the venomous tone hit his ear. He might as well be honest.

"I'm not sure, but there's something went really wrong when we tried to attach his arm. He was attacked yesterday and-"

 _"What do you mean by attacked?!"_ she yelled angrily. Alphonse had to swallow the lump in his throat before he could continue.

"I really don't know. You need to ask him yourself-"

_"And why isn't he calling?"_

"If you'll let me finish, I'll  _tell you!"_

Al immediately felt bad about snapping at her. Edward and Winry had been engaged for a year- of course, she would have questions. He apologized to her and explained what he knew about the event that had occurred the day before as well as what had happened that morning. Her temperament seemed to calm a bit but was replaced with horrible worry.

" _It might be the port itself. The majority of the wiring is in the shoulder piece,"_ Winry finally said silently.

"Is there anything I can do to fix it, so he at least can use his left arm?"  
_  
"No, don't touch it. If that mechanic that attacked Ed really knew what he was doing, he might have caused a lot of damage. Worst-case scenario, we might even have to re-do the entire port."_

Something inside Alphonse's chest seemed to sink down into his stomach and twist around his heart at that.

What the hell had actually happened the night before? Was all this really just some kind of random, in-the-moment act of circumstance, being at the wrong place at the wrong time, or had it been something more?   
  
Al felt his breakfast shift and he felt like he was going to get sick.  _Had this been premeditated?_

" _Al? Are you there?"_

"Yeah, I'm here. I was just... thinking."

_"I'm gonna book a ticket to Central as soon as I can. Keep an eye on his temperature and try to keep it down... And make sure he takes it easy. Chain him to his bed if you have to. If his port gets compromised, it can lead to infection and that's... bad. Okay?"_

"How do I know if it's infected?"

_"The most noticeable symptoms are high fever, redness and swelling to the area around the port. Considering how much of his chest that's covered by the port, you might have to undo the outer casing. Don't do that unless it's absolutely necessary. If he gets trouble breathing you need to take him to a hospital straight away. I rather take care of this myself, but if something like that happens, you should try to find a mechanic that can take a look at it."_

After a short goodbye, Alphonse returned to the living room and wrote all of Winry's notes on a notepad. He also found the number to the official automail mechanic of the military and wrote it down along with the signs he had to look for, just in case. After that, he wrote down the time and disappeared into the bathroom to find a thermometer. He wanted his accurate temperature so he could monitor it.

Again, he felt grateful that his brother was unconscious. Despite the medical field being based on science, which was very much what Ed believed in, Edward was an impossible patient and would assess a fever of 104 as  _negotiable._

 _"No one takes my temperature when they think I'm completely healthy. How can they know that it's not 104 by default?"_ Al remembered Edward argue once he'd been hospitalized with pneumonia after a long mission in North City. Which was followed by  _"why are there maggots in the ceiling?"_ right after, efficiently nullifying all other arguments coming from the sick boy.

"What did she say?" Roy asked anxiously, having waited for Alphonse to write and do all the things he needed to after the conversation with Winry. Alphonse explained while taking Ed's temperature.

"101,5. As long as it doesn't go any higher, I think we're okay," he finally said, lowering his shoulders a little and breathing out a relieved sigh.

"When is the girl coming?" Roy asked, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. He really had never longed for the stacks of paperwork on his desk this much, ever.

"If she's able to leave today, probably about two days," Al said, before suddenly turning pale as a sheet.  
Roy felt a cold running down his back. He couldn't handle  _two_ sick Elric brothers. There was  _no_ way. That was  _not_ in his job description!

"Al, are you okay?" he asked reluctantly, on the edge of his seat.

"Yeah... Yeah, it's nothing. Really, it's just... No, it's nothing." Al shook his head and tried to set up a smile that didn't at all look convincing. His lips were turned the right way, but the look in his eyes betrayed him. It looked sad- disappointed.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."  
  
Roy was  _not_ , but decided to leave it for now.

Edward slept through the next four hours. Alphonse had taken his temperature twice, dutifully writing the numbers down on the notepad. It had increased, if only by a little. Hopefully, it was only his body fighting off the irregularity within its system and nothing worse. The flesh that could be seen under the casing was irritated, but Alphonse assessed it to be nothing worse than he usually had on a particularly bad, stormy day. He retrieved the two well used hot water bottles from the bathroom and placed them on the sore skin.

For some reason Roy couldn't quite understand himself, he had chosen to stay. He told himself that it was to give Edward his medications once he woke up. Against his better judgment, he hadn't shown them to Alphonse yet. The boy was studying medicine (though, he wondered how that would turn out as terrified he seemed to be about causing another being pain), and would likely recognize the names of the assortment of medication as well as knowing about their use.

Until he could talk one on one with Ed, he decided that he wouldn't tell.

Luckily,  _or perhaps not- Roy couldn't be sure_ , that proved to be the least of his problems. As the day went on, Alphonse grew more and more restless, but something told Roy that this wasn't just about his brother waking up. There was something going on that Al didn't tell him.

Finally, Alphonse returned to the living room, having spoken in a hushed voice on the phone out in the hallway for a little while. He looked anxious and indecisive, like he wanted to say something but kept stopping himself, pacing back and forth.

Roy kept an eye on him from his seat, folding his newspaper onto his lap and looking tiredly at the skittish teen.

"Alphonse, you're not being subtle, if that's what you think," Roy stated flatly. Alphonse startled and tried to smile, scratching the back of his head apologetically.

"I-I'm sorry General, it's nothing. Don't worry about it," he chuckled lightly, but the heavy sigh that followed that statement didn't go undetected from the seasoned military officer.

"Spit it out kid, you've been acting really strange the last couple of hours."

"Oh, it's... it's stupid, really." Al frowned, but it was ridiculously clear that he had something on his mind. The boy couldn't lie to save his life, so Roy made a mental note to invite the brothers to their next poker night. They already knew that Edward didn't have much of a poker face, even if he thought so himself. He shot Alphonse a disapproving look, clearly telling him to give it up already.

"Well," Alphonse dragged out. "Look, I really shouldn't even ask this. But, do you think it would be okay if I left for a study group for a few hours? It's just, we have this big project coming up and it's like, half my grade, but..."

"It's fine. Edward will understand."

Alphonse's look of surprise almost made Roy laugh but, opposite to the brothers, he could hide his feelings expertly (of course, it could never get past Riza, which was why they had stopped inviting her to their monthly poker games).

"Are you sure?" Alphonse was able to stutter, torment clear in his eyes as he glanced towards his brother's restlessly sleeping form. He had whined a couple of times, small whimpers of distress and pain with heavy drops of sweat trailing down a sickly pallor.

"I'm sure," Roy assured him. Alphonse stood, unmoving for a little while, before giving Roy a decisive nod.

"Okay," he said and got back to his notepad once again and scribbled down a number and a name with beautiful cursive.

"This is the number directly to the university library. Call if anything happens, okay?"

"Of course," Roy said simply, looking calm and confident. _Poker face._

"And, you should check his temperature every two hours. I won't be gone too long, but you might have to check it once or twice," Al mumbled thoughtfully, chewing on the end of his pencil, making sure he wasn't forgetting anything.

"Yep," Roy said, eyes back on the newspaper, legs crossed mundanely and coffee cup close to his lips.  
  
"...and you might have to change the water in the warm water bottles in a little while, and maybe check the skin around the port while you're at it. I've written what you need to look for on the previous page, if you just..."

"Alphonse, it's okay. If I have any questions, I'll call you. Now, go and meet your friends, it's clearly important to you."

Alphonse's inner turmoil stirred. Did General Mustang think that he cared more about his friends than his family? Was he being selfish?  _If he couldn't go on the trip..._  at least he needed to do something for the group project. They had a really interesting hypothesis on how to transfer chi from one person to another, effectively boosting the receiver's lowered stamina. The theory was that several lesser skilled alchemists (who would have to know how to channel their own chi, _of course_ ) and Alkahestry users could refuel the powers of a stronger individual and therefore, make the receiver able to not succumb to fatigue once their energy ran out. If they could prove it and initially try it out, it could be revolutionary to the medical usage of Alkehestry.

Something woke Alphonse from his dreamlike state, lost in his own thoughts. Roy had gotten up from his seat and was now standing right in front of him. To Al, it was strange being eye to eye with the general still, and not looking down, a little over a foot, at him.   
  
Roy, on the other hand, was fascinated that Alphonse was so tall and handsome. Not that the Elric family wasn't a good looking family, they surely were, but with Edwards small stature and lean, all though muscular frame, he had expected Al to be more like him. Also, with the way Al's voice had been so childlike for all the years he had known him- except for this past year- he had truly expected to see Edwards  _little_ brother. A smaller,  _if even possible_ , version of him. But that wasn't it at all. Alphonse was tall, not freakishly so, but considerably taller than Ed. He had strong, broad shoulders and even a little excess fat around his stomach. He didn't look chubby, not at all, he just looked  _normal._ Like a boy in his mid-teens, still having some growing left to do and some fat yet to be distributed between future centimeters.

He looked  _healthy._

"Al- go and meet your peers. Your brother knows how important this is to you. He'll probably blow a fuse once he realizes that you skipped school to look after him, so give him this." Roy placed a firm hand on Al's shoulder, and Al looked at the hand in awe. Roy realized that he had never actually touched Alphonse. Not while he could feel it.

He gave the shoulder an extra squeeze before letting go.

Alphonse smiled with a faint shimmer in his eyes. "Okay, I'll do that. Thank you General, you know, for- for everything."

Roy decided not to answer, but instead, giving the young man a small, lopsided smile and got back to his chair, once again unfolding the newspaper. He had actually read through it twice while being there, but he didn't know what else to do with himself.

Alphonse grabbed his backpack, overfilled to the point where the zippers were bulging out complaining its misery, before he disappeared into the hallway, getting dressed and ready to leave.

Roy couldn't help himself.

"Bring an umbrella- it looks like it's going to rain," he yelled into the hallway, listening as Alphonse paused, before rummaging around in the closet for a while. A small click could be heard, followed by a small  _wack_ and another click, as Alphonse opened the umbrella and closed it, checking to make sure the one he found was working nicely.

"Thanks," he shouted back, with a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest. He left the apartment with a grin on his face and tears dwelling in his eyes. Edward was protective of him, always putting his needs and wants before his own, but Edward was still big brother. He wasn't... what to call it?

...a father figure?

* * *

Again, Roy didn't know what had come over him. But it felt nice. He knew he had made Alphonse feel special, cared for in a way Edward just couldn't, because Ed was Ed. Edward was good, through and through. A hero, and an amazing big brother. But he wasn't a father.   
  
_Roy wasn't a father, either._

Still, something about this whole situation made him feel like he needed to step up. Maybe... maybe Alphonse didn't need to know what happened to Edward. Maybe Fullmetal had been right by keeping him from that. Or maybe not. Only time could tell, because Roy didn't know.

There wasn't much Roy actually knew these days anyway.

He pinched the bridge of his nose tightly and sighed heavily. What an absolute disheartening and dysfunctional chaos he had found himself in. Wearily, he got up from his chair and stepped over to the couch where Edward was fast asleep. Carefully, he put the inside of his wrist to his temple, frowning from the heat he felt. Sadly, the port didn't look much better either.

The boy's pained expression made his heart feel tender and sore as he buttoned the shirt back up and covered the trembling body with the blanket. This was such a hopeless situation, but he had finally found that he knew  _one_ single thing for sure.

The hot water bottles needed to be re-filled.  


* * *

  
**TBC  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! The positive feedback I've gotten on this story is super overwhelming! I remember how nervous I felt when posting the first couple of chapters. I'm struggling a bit lately with a writer's block, but I do get some sporadic waves of inspiration, so hopefully, they'll keep coming so I'm able to finish this in a timely manner! I'm really sorry that I haven't been able to answer all of the comments lately, it's just been a lot of stuff going on (good stuff- mostly!) but I'll get back to that as soon as I can! I really appreciate the feedback and I draw a lot of inspiration from it, both in way of motivation, but also in how the story is progressing! 
> 
> Stay awesome!


	9. Chapter 9

The hours went by with Roy nodding off in one of the armchairs while Ed's restless sleep continued into the late afternoon. That's when the boy finally started to stir. His eyes fluttered open, tryingly, before glossing over and he closed them again, fidgeting and fighting unconsciousness.  
  
The small irks from the boy made Roy alert, and he quickly got to his feet to check on him.

Ed's brilliant golden eyes kept flickering, clearly struggling to be maintained open. It was no gentle awakening. Roy figured he was being forced awake by another bad dream.

“Edward?” Mustang called calmly, trying to ease him awake. “Edward, I'm here. You're okay. No one is going to hurt you.”

Ed let out a small whine. His bandaged hand was looking for something to grab onto and Roy instantly offered his hand up as a much-needed anchor to reality. Ed instinctively grabbed a hold of it, as tightly as he possibly could with a broken wrist while his eyes desperately tried to focus on the reassuring presence his superior was offering him.

Finally, Edward was able to tear himself away from the dark realms of his own mind, and shot up off the couch and into a seated position, painfully and lobsided. He breathed heavily, looking around the room, trying to ground himself.

 _Couch, bookshelf, living room, Roy_ \- _he was at home._

_He was in his own home, safe, away from his boogyman, away from the shady hotel room and safe and sound and at home with Roy._

_...with Roy? What?  
_  
“Where's Al?” Ed demanded as fiercely as he could muster in his sluggish state. It mostly came off as weakly and wearied, if not almost a little comical, but at least there was _some_ bite to it. If only for a couple of words.

Roy couldn't help but smile at the familiarity of the disdain in Ed's voice while he carefully pushed him back into the soft cushions of the couch.

This defiance _had_ to be positive, because the defeated and apathetic Edward from before the breakdown, was just _too_ much to handle. It was t _oo scary and depressive._ It was frightening and heartbreaking and _nothing_ like the Edward Elric he knew _(and reluctantly had to admit, loved)._

Roy cleared his throat before he spoke. “Alphonse went to a study-group a while ago. It seemed to be very important-” he explained before Edward rolled his eyes knowingly and exclaimed a heavy sigh.  
  
“Shit,” Edward mumbled. “Of _course._ That's this week...”

Edward was lying still on the couch, with his only arm covering pinching the bridge of his nose. His expression was conveying something in between guilt and trepidation. Roy had no idea what for but intended to figure it out.

“What's going on, Fullmetal?” he asked sternly, still lingering nearby the couch while giving the kid his personal space.

“He has a class trip in two days, to Xing,” Edward explained hoarsely.

It took a couple of seconds for it to dawn upon Roy how this could affect the situation at hand. He had already told Alphonse that Edward shouldn't be left alone, and now he finally understood the turmoil that was going on inside both of the brothers. Alphonse's research was mainly focused around medical Alkehestrey, Edward was talking about it all the time at the office, and Xing was the mecca of it.

If Alphonse couldn't make the trip, it would set him back almost two years of very viable research and probably make the youngest Elric lose much of the spark that shone so brightly in a still almost untouched field in Amestris.

But, if he left... Roy didn't know how Edward would be able to handle himself, while Alphonse himself would probably be destroyed with guilt.

He decided to try and change the subject instead, to something a little more pleasant. _At least, kind of._

“Winry is on her way,” he said out of the blue, looking towards the pale form at the couch in front of him.

At first, a faint smile seemed to be settling in the corners of Edward's mouth, but it quickly disappeared.

“Why?” he asked with worried eyes, glassy orbs finally looking wide awake.

“Because of your automail...” Roy started, hoping that Ed would fill out the blanks himself.

Edward knitted his eyebrows in confusion, mindlessly brushing his shoulder with his flesh hand and frowning a little when a small spasm ran through his nerves at the touch.

Then he remembered.

“Oh, yeah. Of course,” Ed chuckled solemnly.   
  
An uncomfortable silence settled between the two as Edward gathered himself from hours of restless sleep, while Roy desperately tried to figure out something to say that could sound only remotely comforting. He sought to summon his inner Hughes to no avail.

Luckily, a small murmur coming from Edward's stomach broke the quietude, bringing a sheepish grin to the boy's face while his injured hand clutched his stomach. With a small sense of optimism, Roy looked expectedly at him.

“You hungry?”

“A little,” Ed admitted, realizing he hadn't eaten since the day before, while simultaneously trying to suppress the reason behind it. It was clear on his face as the thought flickered through his mind, but he decided to soldier on. Roy forced a smile, and wearily pushed himself to a standing position, feeling his back crack from sleeping in the chair for a bit too long.

“Well, let's see what we can cook up. I can't promise you a five-star meal, but I'm fairly known for knowing my way around the kitchen,” Roy declared smugly, holding his right-hand ceremoniously to his chest.

Something about the normalcy of his superior officer's smugness made something inside Ed's chest churn, as if it had come undone. Like someone had been pushing down on it harshly and finally, let go. He took a trying breath to strangle whatever was about to burst out of him, but it only came out as a small hiccup. His traitorous lower lip started to wobble, something it had done as long as he'd lived when he got upset. It was childish and stupid, and he furiously tried to stop it, but couldn't.   
  
He bit down on his lips hard, and quickly brushed his sleeve across his eyes to hide the droplets that were gathering there, refusing to look at his elder while in this state.

Roy looked away, knowing the reluctance his subordinate had for showing his emotions, even if his beyond-his-years' exterior had already shattered to dust and escaped between his fingers several times during these last twelve hours.

The raven-haired man reminded himself, almost gleefully, how hard he was going to fight for that vile man to be publicly lynched for what he had done to his kid.

 _This. This_ kid _._

Roy shook his head, fighting his admittedly vindictive musings. Edward wasn't hiding his face anymore, but he sat perfectly still, his head hanging with his bangs draped in front of his eyes. Roy swallowed the lump in his throat and breathed in through his nose. He needed to do  _something.  
_  
After a short while of racking his brain, he thought of something. It wasn't much, but maybe  _just enough_ to distract the teen for a little while.

“Hey, Fullmetal. Would you mind showing me the pantry?”

Edward twitched, one swollen eye peeking through his golden strands.   
  
“It's just behind the corner from the icebox,” he muttered weakly, putting some strain on his voice to make sure it held through his sentence. Roy didn't budge.

“I would actually rather that you helped me. I don't want to accidentally make something you don't like,” he claimed, well aware that there wasn't a single thing (that didn't come out of a cow's udder) that the kid wouldn't eat.

“I'm sure you can figure something out.”

Roy shrugged, turning and starting his way past the kitchen island towards where Edward had said the pantry was. “Fine, well... I feel like porridge. T's full of calcium. Milk helps your bones heal,” he mused to himself and halted for a moment. “Also, it might help with that growth-spurt you've been chanting about for the past six years...”

“Roy,” Edward whined from behind him, and Roy smiled triumphantly. It wasn't the firey response he would usually get, but it was as much as he could have hoped for. He turned around, looking at the exasperated boy innocently.

“Hm?”

Ed glared at him, before sighing and reaching his arm out for Roy to help him up. Without a word, Roy wormed his arm behind his back and helped him stagger to his feet and supported him the few feet over to the kitchenette.

“So, what do you want to eat?” Roy asked again, letting Ed get seated on one of the barstools at the counter, containing the instinctive need to comment about how Ed actually needed to use the small step on the bottom of the chair to get up to the seat.

“I can just have some cereal,” Ed answered, pointing to a colorful cardboard box, standing on the upper shelf.

“I'm absolutely confident that you're able to stomach something more substantial than that,” Roy frowned, reading through the ingredients chart on the back of the box. “This is like 95% sugar.”

“I like it,” Ed shrugged, muttering a small “Gimme,” stretching for it as Roy placed it back on the shelf.

“At least you get some milk in that atom-sized body of yours while eating that shit,” Roy mumbled distastefully, rounding the corner towards the pantry.

“Na-ah,” Ed pouted before adding, “also, not short,” and rested his head on the counter while watching as Roy retrieved eggs, salt, butter, and bread before placing it next to him.

“What? Do you eat it dry?”

“Uhu. Tastes best like that.”

Roy raised an eyebrow at him, shaking his head in disapproval. He started to crack the eggs into a bowl while Ed watched intently. Roy caught small glances of how Ed followed his every move, absorbing his actions like a sponge.

“Do you boys even know how to cook?” he finally asked, pausing his stirring the batter.

Ed looked up at him, still resting his head on the cold surface-top.

“A little,” he answered. “I mean, we've taught ourselves some stuff here and there, but... it usually doesn't taste any good,” he chuckled lightly with a thoughtful, albeit tired, smile.

Roy pondered about the younger's answer.   
  
“But, Alphonse makes a really good stew,” Edward added hurriedly as if listening in on Roy's thoughts.

“That's all good and well, but I still think I could learn you two a trick or two,” Roy retorted.

“We've managed this far,” Ed argued half-heartedly, propping his head upon his one arm lightly.

“Still, you need your nurturance. Alphonse's a growing boy, and you...” Roy peered down at Ed, who's ears peeked up anticipatingly.

“...you're also here,” Roy grinned sheepishly, just able to duck in time to avoid the flying egg thrown dangerously close to his head.

* * *

A few hours later, Edward had fallen back asleep, snoring softly from behind the half-closed door of his bedroom. The newly appointed genera literally had to carry his sleeping subordinate into the bedroom, all the while the kid remaining dead to the world, sound asleep. It had been after some careful negotiations, that Roy had finally been able to make him take his medication. They had quickly knocked him out, for which Roy was grateful. Alphonse would probably be returning home soon, and they had some stuff to talk about, preferably without Edward listening in.   
  
Also, Winry had called from one of her train stops. She would be arriving in the morning, and Roy would be picking her up from the station. Edward's reaction to the news had been indecipherable. The young couple had talked on the phone for a bit. Ed had sounded genuinely happy to talk to her and assured her that he was doing okay, even if it was far from the truth.   
  
But, once they had hung up, Edward turned muted and wistful again. The easy-going tone they had somehow been able to develop throughout the day was completely gone. Ed seemed to have spiraled back into the closed-in state he previously had been trapped inside.

Roy couldn't blame him though. He was a seventeen-year-old boy who had been grossly assaulted less than 24 hours ago, and now his fiancè was on her way to see him. That situation would be enough to freak anyone out. Roy couldn't imagine what Edward was feeling at the moment.

The front door opened, creaking loudly, before shutting carefully again. Roy turned his attention towards the hallway, where Alphonse appeared shortly after, tip-toeing past the open bedroom door, clearly understanding that his brother was sleeping in there.  
  
“How's he been?” the tall boy asked immidietly as he noticed Mustang, peering into the dark room where his brother was residing.

“All right, I guess,” Roy answered hesitantly, scratching the back of his neck and lowering the coffee cup he'd been holding to his lips.

“That's good I suppose.”   
  
A sad glance crossed the young man's face as the situation once again settled in, after spending some time being able to focus on something else than the utterly depressing surroundings in their apartment at the moment.

“Winry's arriving tomorrow morning,” Roy declared and tried to smile reassuringly. The poor comfort didn't quite shine through, but hopefully, Al would be able to at least appreciate the gesture.   
  
Al was still standing thoughtfully in the doorway, observing Ed as he restlessly fidgeted in his sleep.  
  
“That's good,” he answered absentmindedly, unwilling to avert his gaze.   
  
Roy got up from his seat and walked calmly towards the teen, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“He told me about the trip to Xing if that's what's on your mind?”

“I know I can't go,” Al muttered quietly, looked guiltily at his brother and frowning slightly.

“He said he wanted you to go.”   
  
“Of course he did,” the blonde scoffed bitterly before adding, “But I can't. Not when he's... like this.”  
  
Roy genuinely felt bad for them. He always did. These boys never seemed to catch a break. On one hand, Edward could definitely use Alphonse to get through these next couple of days, or weeks, which would undoubtedly be very hard. On the other hand, this was too good of an opportunity to miss for Al.   
  
Also, the guilt Edward would feel if he knew he was the reason his brother chose not to take this trip, would quite possibly kill him. Ed already felt responsible for taking five years of senses away from Alphonse, and almost his life with it. No way he could handle being the cause of something remotely similar again. Not now.

Before Roy even realized what he was saying, it was too late to take it back. The words seemed to drop out of him by their own volition. “He can come and stay with me.”

 _Oh, God._  
  
Alphonse forgot to quelch his excitement for a second. “Really? I mean- if it's okay. And if Ed's okay with it-” The teen stopped himself, hiding his face in his hands as his own guilt finally reached his heart. “No, no- I can't. Ed is in a bad way right now, I need to be here for him...”

The fact that Al was even able to entertain the idea of leaving for Xing, only proved how important this trip was to him. Roy knew he was making the right decision, even if it was terrifying.

“I offered, didn't I? We can talk with Edward about it in the morning if you like, but as far as I can tell, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity for you.”   
  
“B-but Ed...” Al started to argue, but cut himself off. “...but Ed knows that this research could save a lot of lives. And he knows that it means a lot to me. He would feel even worse if I didn't go because of him. I just feel like no matter what I do right now, I'll regret it along the way.”  
  
Roy shrugged, unfortunately knowing the feeling Alphonse was struggling with really well. Every day in Ishval had been like that.

“Well, sometimes the rewards aren't immediate,” Roy mused yearningly. “But, in the long run... you know what's gonna do the most good.”  
  
The green-eyed boy still looked conflicted, which was to be expected under the circumstances.

“I know,” Roy continued, with a small smile curving his lips, “...that I'm honored to take any part I can in the results of your research, Alphonse. If only as little as taking care of your brother so you can go. You have a brilliant mind, kid. Just like your brother... and I'll hurt you if you ever tell him I said that.”

Alphonse chuckled sadly but nodding his head faintly. After a short pause, he sighed heavily before he asked, “Roy?”

“Yeah?”

Alphonse turned around to face his elder, hazel eyes still filled with sorrow and chagrin.

“What did that guy _really_ do to brother?”

Roy looked back, mirroring Alphonse's own grave expression.   
  
He wasn't sure how to answer that.

But he didn't need to.

Because Alphonse already knew.

“I didn't want it to be true...” Alphonse uttered silently, shutting the door a little more. He didn't want Edward to hear the grief in his voice. Didn't want his brother to know that he had decided to go on the trip, despite knowing what atrocities that had been committed to his own flesh and blood. He decided that it was best for both of them if he pretended that he didn't know- to the point that it was still possible. He _had_ already made a scene about the bruises on his brother's hips.

_Behind the closed door laid Ed, clutching his legs tightly to his chest, shaking as the sobs shooked violently through his body._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized that this is the 9th chapter, and we've only gotten about 24 hours into the story. Hopefully, you guys are still enjoying it though. Thank you for letting me take my time, and write this while letting the story take me where it wants to go by itself. It's going to proceed a bit more in the next chapter.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is really short- but I felt like it was done. I'm not a huge fan of adding a lot of unnecessary stuff to get a longer chapter. (Read: I couldn't write any more even if I wanted to). 
> 
> I still hope you enjoy it! I think I'm starting to have some direction in this story now, which I haven't really had before, which has made it hard to write it. I still don't know how it's going to end, but from experience, I will figure it out as I go!
> 
> Oh, and also: I do usually answer all comments, but I'm like... a little bit clinically depressed, so I'm not always able too. But I always try and get back to it- because I truly appreciate all or any comments as long as they're constructive! (or just simply nice)

_**I'm falling.  
** _ _  
I'm falling in and out.  
  
_ _I just keep falling and never hit the ground.  
  
_ _I never know if the impact is going to kill me or not. I just keep falling through the air, waiting to see if the next impact will obliverate me...  
  
_ _...or if I'll come back **alive.** As of right now, I haven't really decided yet._

_I'm scattered into microscopic pieces._

_Pieces I didn't know I **had** \- each a different shade of **blinding**._

_Pieces that were left behind... and **not** the pieces that fit with **mine**._

_When is it going to end?_

* * *

Edward uncurled unwillingly, jumping a little as his automail leg creaked by the movement and echoed through his dead-silent room. He quickly threw a glance towards the door to check that it was shut. He didn't want anyone to come in right now. Not because he had woken up with puffy, red eyes and sticky trails down his cheeks. And not because he wasn't grateful for all that Alphonse and Mustang had done for him these last twenty-four hours.

He simply wanted to be left alone for a little bit.

Everyone was just trying to help him, but it felt absolutely suffocating.

He needed to process this on his own, at least for a little while. He needed to figure out how much he was going to let this impact him- if he was still the same, or if he had really broken as bad as it felt like.  
  
It just felt as if something was missing inside of him- or added, whichever way you'd look at it- something he didn't like.

Shame, embarrassment, a feeling of everything around him being changed in some way. Or ruined... destroyed.

 _The way people would look at him if they knew._ The way the general was acting _so_ carefully around him, and the way Al's eyes had that sad puppy-eyed look whenever he looked at him.

Edward knew that he knew. Knew that, even if Al hadn't heard it for him, his brother was smart enough to piece the puzzle together. The last thing he wanted was for Alphonse to be worried about him.

His brother had more than enough with his own anxieties after getting his body back. Obviously, it would be weird for anyone who had lost their body at 10, to get it back all those years later. So much was different, and he hadn't actually been there to _experience_ the changes that his body had gone through. From being a strong and healthy boy that _(Ed)_ turned into a glorified tin-can, resurrected four years later, sickly and weakly, for then to become a tall and sturdy man in such an impressively short amount of time.

_Edward had a period of sickness a short time after Alphonse got his body back. It had started as a sore throat and gradually turned into a life-threatening high fever. His body was covered with agitated rashes that looked like the wounds of a burn victim._

_With Alphonse still going through intensive physical therapy to get the strength back in his body, Winry being unnotified in Rush Valley and himself being hardly lucid most of the time in a hospital bed, there was no one that had enough knowledge about automail that could argue the doctors' diagnosis of automail infection.  
_

_The doctor's themselves didn't know enough about automail infections to diagnose it, but they still did. It had all unraveled in a horribly painful surgery to remove both of his ports, only to realize several weeks later that it did in fact not help._

_He was then diagnosed with Scarlet Fever, and once again, he had to undergo the horrendous automail surgery to get his artificial limbs back.  
  
Luckily, he had once again recovered in record time, being back to work four months after the surgery. There was still a bit of soreness, even now, but he had managed worse.  
  
That didn't mean that the surgery went flawlessly though. His body was still severely weak and painful after the removal of his ports, but as soon as Winry had found out what had been done to him, she immediately insisted on getting them back in place as soon as possible, so she wouldn't have to tear open old scar tissue and agitate newly healed nerves._

_It had been even worse than the first time.  
  
This was what had _ _motivated Alphonse into training so hard that the doctors had warned him that he would throw up blood (oh how familiar that sounded; but Al had luckily been spared of that. Because Alphonse always exceeded everyone's expectations), just to get stronger and healthier so he could enroll to medical school to specialize in Alkehestry._

 _Because at this point, there had been enough progress in the medical field to know that there was no pain-relieving medication_ _that could be used while undergoing automail surgery that wouldn't affect the nerves, while Ed and Al both knew enough about alchemy to understand that there wasn't much help to find there either._

_But, Alkehestry was still such untouched territory, and Alphonse was absolutely certain that the answer to less painful automail surgery and re/detachment would lay there since it already held strong footing in medicine and health._

But in the end, it all felt like a giant mockery.

Their life had been on pause for so long while trying to resurrect their bodies... _Of course, he was still short of two flesh and blood limbs, but that didn't matter._ It didn't stop him from doing what he wanted to be doing. Things were supposed to become normal now. At least _their_ kinda normal.

And it seemed to be heading that way for a while. But right now, the world around him felt so dull. So meaningless. Like, there was no point to any of it.  
  
...and it kinda felt like he never would feel happy again.

It was at times like these he really _truly_ couldn't stand the loss of his mother.

The pain was there- always- and it would never go away. But right now, he wished he could just curl up in her lap and feel the heat of her body and nuzzle his face into her apron that always smelled of apple pie and listen to her soft and beautiful voice, telling him that everything was _okay_ and that she would _protect_ _him_ and never _ever_ let anybody hurt him again. He even missed the wet, painful coughs that ravaged through her body on her dying days.  
 _  
_But he shouldn't think like that. Not when he was trying to convince Mustang and the rest of the team that he had grown up. Sixteen _(nearly seventeen)_ year-olds shouldn't cry because they were afraid, or because of pain. They shouldn't still be crying because they missed their mothers.

 _They shouldn't long for the reassuring pressure of a tight embrace and a warm hand that would stroke circles on their backs or run graceful fingers through their hair.  
_  
Once, he had selfishly sacrificed his and Al's lives to experience that again, and he should have learned by his mistakes back then; to not dwell on the past _(because that was dangerous- it was the type of thing that made man do desperate things- like human transmutation),_ and get over these foolish thoughts. That was the only way of moving forward.

But right now, it was just _too_ painful. Much too much of _everything._

_Too much hurt, too much humiliation, too much comfort and too many helping hands!_

_Why couldn't he just... just, stop existing? Just for a little while, while he figured this shit out and things started to go back to normal. Everybody should just forget his existence for a few days, or maybe weeks, and let him **handle this.** Get over it. Digest it and forget it and get over it like he had all the other shit he had endured._

And Winry... _damn it,_ _Winry..._

What would she think? If he wasn't broken _before_...

...this was something automail couldn't fix.

_Would she even want him anymore if she found out?_

He would probably find out soon enough because she was on her way and would be arriving in only a few hours.

And that made Edward _terrified._

How in the world could he face her in such a sorry state?

 _Sure_ , she had seen him without his automail before- anything else would only be strange. She was his mechanic, after all. But still... the only time she had seen him as _broken_ like this, was that faithfull day six years ago.

There was also that time with Barry the Butcher, but he wasn't sure if he could count that. She had been there and seen it. They were both distraught by that. This time, however, it was _him_.

_**Only** him._

Somehow, his bedroom was starting to feel crowded, even if it was just him in there and very little furniture. Almost like the walls were closing in. Their whiteness seemed so overwhelming- as if he stared off into eternity- through the walls into something so immensely large that he couldn't quite fathom it. A space that he couldn't control, that could eat him alive and devour him into its nothingness and never let him go. All the while, the walls still came closer- _too close_ and he couldn't quite _breathe._

He- he could _breathe,_ but not _really._ There was a heaviness in his chest that seemed to stop his lungs from expanding and he _knew he needed to get out._

Edward scrambled off the bed, wrestling to untangle the sheets from his feet as he stumbled towards his closet _(without a mirror; he couldn't quite remember breaking it but he knew he had)_ to hastily get dressed. He grabbed the first things he saw- a black long-sleeved tee and moss green cargo pants.

It was a struggle to get dressed with only one arm- one _broken_ arm at that, but he finally managed to button and zip up his pants.

Carefully, he made his way out of his room, making sure he could hear Alphonse soft snores from his own room, just as he realized that Roy was cuddled up on their sofa.

He couldn't help but roll his eyes at that while fighting an internal battle _not_ to be slightly grateful _(and especially not moved)_ that he was. It made him hesitate for a moment. Because, he knew they would be worried if he wasn't back before they woke up- and he honestly didn't know if he would.

Which was _stupid_ because he was almost _seventeen_ and hadn't had an actual curfew since their training days with Izumi. He could go when and wherever he _god damn pleased!_

...because Winry was coming and it was _too much_ right now and he didn't want to see her.

_Not until he was fixed._

But he didn't feel truly safe when he was missing any of his automail _(only weak and useless and good for nothing and guilty and dumb)_ and everyone was trying to make it _better_ but only made it _worse,_ and if he was feeling _weak without his automail,_ he needed _her,_ needed Winry, _who he did not want to see right now_ , to _fix_ him.

He just needed a little more time. It was _too soon._

He stepped into his heavy combat boots and slid on a woolen jacket before he carefully slipped out the door and into the night.


	11. Chapter 11

The early morning streets were dim and murky. The rain had let up, if only a little, leaving only a thin coat of drizzle to settle onto Edwards overgrown bangs that peeked out beneath his hood. He had purposely tucked his empty sleeve into his deep pockets, hoping it would look like there was an actual arm there, and avoid as much attention as possible. Not that there was much traffic along the streets in Central this early in the morning. Mostly, the people around him seemed to be weary drunks venturing home. 

The sour smell of alcohol that laid over the area as a thick blanket made Edward slightly sick and his mind would sneakily drift back to the other night and the foul breath of his attacker, the yellowing teeth and harsh stubbles against his neck. Edward forced his wandering thoughts back, shaking his head with a distasteful frown. Because _no. Doing something as mundanely as taking a walk wasn’t going to be wrecked by Him._

Going outside was supposed to be his escape, not take him back. Because seriously; the guy had been arrested. He was the one supposed to be locked up, not Ed. The power had been taken away from Him. He was probably sitting in a dirty cell in an olive jumpsuit right now.

So why would Ed still allow him to ruin Winry visiting? Besides the obvious, the missing automail, broken hand and concussion, which was mainly why she was visiting in the first place, this shouldn’t have anything to do with it. It should be as far from his mind as possible. This guy, Cedric _(the name made him shudder)_ had already broken enough. Meddling in their relationship was out of the question, Ed had to draw the line there. 

Feeling strangely elevated by that, he switched directions and continued towards the park. He usually didn’t like walking through there. A large statue of King Bradley was still standing, towering over anyone walking through the center of the park and always made him feel really uncomfortable. At this point, it had been vandalized nearly beyond recognition though, and Edward would neither confirm or deny having taken any part of it _(neither would Havoc and Breda)_ , but it felt oddly satisfying that no one had cleaned it up yet _(which he suspected a certain General would neither confirm or deny being responsible for- a request form had been delivered, but it mysteriously kept landing at the bottom of the pile)_.

Today, however, he was going to walk that way. Because he had decided that he was the boss of _his_ life. He would _not_ be dictated by a dead, well, _dictator,_ nor a middle-aged pervert. If he wanted to walk through the pretty greenery of the park and not the grey pavement through the bars, _he was going to._

* * *

The walk had been refreshing, to put it mildly. Only minutes after exiting the park on the other side, the sky had opened and the odious smell of booze lingering in the streets had been washed away to make way for the people going to work. Even as Ed could feel the water soak through his coat and, literally, through his underwear, he kept walking, shrugging off his hood and pointed his nose to the wet, sighing sky and let the curtain of rain and brisk wind brush across his swelled eyes and heated forehead. Despite the black clouds, he could see that it was morning, and he should probably head back home if he wanted to get back inside before Roy and Al woke up. 

Although he didn’t want to return to the apartment and leave this re-empowered and relieved feeling behind, he knew it would soon enough be replaced by guilt anyway. And as soon as the streets would fill up with people, beginning “just another day”, that didn’t know that Winry was coming, that didn’t know he shouldn’t really be outside, who didn’t about… well, didn’t _know…_ He knew that this feeling would go away at that point, so maybe it was for the best to call it quits now. 

Edward gingerly opened the door to their apartment, quietly and hoping that he wouldn’t wake up Roy and Al, but he hadn’t more than opened the door when a furious-looking blonde waving a wrench in his face appeared in front of him, yelling in such a high-pitched voice that he couldn’t make out what she was saying at all. It was like  _static._  

“W-Win?” he uttered wide-eyed, halting at the door. Behind her, Alphonse came into view with a worry knitted between his eyebrows. “Brother! Oh, thank God…”

“Is that Fullmetal?” He could hear Mustang’s voice from further inside the room and his footsteps moving rapidly towards the entry.

Paralyzed at the sight of the menacing tool, glittering in the faint light from the outside, Edward kept staring, looking as if ready to bolt before the wrench clanked sharply as it hit the ground and two lean yet muscular arms draped around his neck. 

“You stupid idiot, you had us so worried!” Winry cried dramatically. Edward had not grasped the situation in its entirety yet and hesitated for a moment before he wrapped his arms around her little waistline. She felt different, somehow. As if her hips had gotten slightly broader. 

“I’m sorry,” he croaked as she let go, resting her hands gently on his shoulders and smiled with glossy cerulean eyes. Suddenly, a shy, closed-mouthed kiss was placed on his lips. It startled him, again with the unwanted memories, but he choked it down. He smiled wearily, taking the small step from the front patio and inside and rested a wet, bandaged hand on her cheek and returned it. The vile images flickering through his mind were persistent, but he was pretty sure he was able to hide it. Nobody seemed to notice, anyway. 

“Ed,” Alphonse sighed exasperatedly. “You had a fever not twenty-four hours ago! Not to mention that you’re concussed. You shouldn’t be out in this weather, especially all by yourself!” 

Edward shrugged the coat off his shoulders, heavy from the rain and let it fall to a messy heap on the floor. Alphonse followed the soaked piece of fabric distastefully but decided to let it go this time, letting Edward pass him, leaving wet imprints on the floor behind him. Winry handed him the cloak apologetically. 

“I know Al, I just needed some fresh air,” Edward muttered to the sound of shuffling through his dresser from his bedroom. Shortly after, he returned, now dressed in dry clothes with a towel laying across his shoulders as he dried off his long hair, hanging aimlessly over his empty shoulder port. “I guess I forgot about the time.” 

Three pairs of eyes stared back at him, hazel and dark grey a tad too gravely for Edwards liking, and he knew he had screwed up. “I’m really sorry that I worried you guys, I really didn’t mean to.” 

Before any of them could respond, Winry turned away and picked up her inhumanly heavy toolbox. “Well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to take a look at that port right away before Al and General Mustang kills you,” she smirked. Edward shot her a grateful glance while Roy gave him a look that told him that they hadn’t finished talking about this. Ed dutifully followed Winry into his bedroom and sat down on the bed, while Winry laid out her tools on his work desk.  
  
After a couple of minutes of organizing, Winry faced him, holding a flashlight and a pincher. She looked at him, waiting. 

“Shirt,” she finally said pointedly, when he hadn’t caught on. Edward grimaced at his own idiocy and started tugging off his tee. Then, he hesitated. It suddenly felt too intimate. Too exposing.

Cursing himself, he forced himself to remove it completely anyway, in spite of his uneasy feelings. This was his fiancee, dammit. They were supposed to get married once she had finished her training in Rush Valley. He had pranced around her in his underwear since they were kids, never once feeling self-conscious about it. Still, he couldn’t help his posture from crouching when her eyes graced over his bruised torso. The imprints of the large hands that had held him down had luckily yellowed a little and bled into more obscure marks that weren’t as telling as the day before. He wasn’t sure how to explain away the cuts crisscrossing his chest from the buckle, hoping she would ignore it. At least until later, when the check-up was done and he didn’t need to lay in front of her and feel the wrath of her frustration because he was avoiding the question while working on him.

Winry did look, but, from a life-long friendship, came the benefit of reading micro-expressions. She knew not to pry right now. They needed to start repairing the port, that was the important thing right here and now. Questions could wait for later, when they didn’t have the concerned peering eyes of a skittish younger brother and an out-of-place General watching over them. 

Edward laid down on his bed, port facing her and stared at the ceiling. Gently, she tugged the blanket on his bed up to his chest and smiled. “You’ve just been out in the freezing rain, I thought that you might be cold.” A wordless thank you was offered in return, and Edward set up a tired grin, trying to look unaffected. 

“So, Ed. Would you mind telling me what kind of pain you felt when General Mustang tried to attach the arm, and do you feel anything now?”

Edward chewed on his lip for a moment before he answered. “There’s prickling, like a constant tingle from the side of my neck, and down through… I guess, the arm.” 

“Like phantom pains?”

“Kinda, except, it doesn’t really hurt. It just feels weird.” 

Winry scrunched her face while tying up her hair in a high ponytail, tucking her bangs behind her ear. “What about the attachment?” 

“That was more suddenly. Like an electric current went through my whole nervous system, and it kept burning until I passed out.” Ed looked across the room to Roy, as if asking if his assessment was accurate. Roy gave a grim nod. “He looked like he was having a seizure.”  
  
“I see,” Winry mused. “Did it feel any different before you attached it?” 

“Maybe. It’s hard to tell. I had painkillers,” Ed explained apologetically. This was another one of the reasons that you shouldn’t treat automail troubles with medicine. You didn’t want to mask the symptoms. If left undetected and untreated for too long, it could lead to permanent nerve damage, and not necessarily restricted to the already injured part of the body. It could spread and leave you with a number of serious health issues. 

Winry poked around, removing some of the casing and pulling out wires. Edward closed his eyes. It gave him small jolts of shock, and the pain increased slightly. Winry checked in a couple of times, making sure that it was nothing he couldn’t handle. Automail repair was painful. Even if Edward had a high tolerance for pain and usually endured it without complaining (or saying anything and making her furious), it was the same for everyone. It had to be done. 

A thick, red wire was poked at, and suddenly, Edward’s back arched. He bit down a cry of pain, holding onto the window sill above his bed, instinctively trying to sit up which inevitably made Winry lose her hold on the wire, leaving it hanging restlessly on the outside of Ed’s port and leaving it exposed out of place. That would unavoidably boost the pain tenfolds, and Ed trashed around violently, uncontrollable spasms as only critically pinched nerves could make one do.

Winry murmured an expletive under her breath. “A hand,” she called out to the fidgety spectators and Roy went into action. Alphonse hesitated- he wanted to leave the room. He wanted to be there for Ed, but he couldn’t stand to watch this- not now when he could finally imagine the immense pain Edward was in. Well actually, he _couldn’t_ , which made it all the worse. Any pain he could remember feeling would be nothing compared to this, he was sure.  
  
“Al!” Winry called urgently as Roy tried to gain control over Edward, only succeeding in upsetting him further. Holding him down only made it _worse,_ and only Roy and Alphonse knew why. 

“Alphonse, he needs you,” Roy growled pointedly. He didn’t want to force Edward down on the bed, and especially not while someone was picking at his port. It was _too similar_ to what had happened _,_ and his face was already flushed with an elevated temperature from disturbing the damaged wires again, which made Edward easily delirious. Getting Alphonse to help out was a risk. The last thing they wanted was for Ed to start associating Alphonse with pain too. For now, he thought of his brother as being _safe_ and _good_ and _warm,_ feelings which Al could hopefully awaken in him now. Because they needed him to calm down before he hurt himself.

But Alphonse froze. Memories of his body being devoured by Truth and watching his brother bleed out on the floor after having two limbs ripped off flooded through his mind. He thought about how helpless he felt, how helpless they _were._ He was such a _shitty, terrible, horrible brother and Ed always paid for it and would never let go of his guilt and-_

“Al, if you don’t come and help out, I need to circuit his whole port!” Winry yelled. Al snapped his head up, watching as Roy straddled his brother, holding his shoulders down as Ed cried out in panic and pain. Finally, Alphonse got his feet unstuck from the floor. With long, quick steps, he made his way towards the bed and leaned in front of Roy.  
  
Wild, unseeing eyes stared through him, gasping for breaths as he buckled his hips and tried to throw Roy off. With his brother there, Roy retreated carefully, still ready to jump back on if Winry did indeed needed to shut the nerves of the shoulder port down. 

“Brother?” Al called softly. His voice nearly burst from heartbreak. Because this was truly the most pain Al could ever feel. It was a pain he had felt even when he was in the suit of armor. The agony of seeing Edward in such disarray had always moved something within him, and if it was powerful enough to nearly shatter a seven feet suit of armor, how in the world could his vulnerable human heart ever bare it?  
  
Tears trickled down Al’s square jaw, teeth digging into his bottom lip to keep it from wobbling. His hands twisted into the thin blanket that covered Edwards’s torso, and he crumbled onto his older brother’s battered chest, burying his face into the heat radiating around the feverish body, seeking comfort in his beating heart. Once more, hardly above a whisper, he sobbed his brother’s name into the trembling chest.

Suddenly, something bumped clumsily at the back of his head. A bulky hand tried to brush soothingly through his disheveled hair, and Al slowly realized that Ed had stopped fighting. Looking up, Al peered into half-lidded, golden eyes and a slight smile, strained with pain. 

“I’m okay, Al,” Ed sighed hoarsely, breathing shallow and constrained. “It’s okay, thank you.” 

Winry’s hands were once again working vigorously with the wires, and Roy had settled back across the room, sitting on the floor and peering into the ceiling. Turning his attention back to his brother, Al noticed that Edward had closed his eyes again, while his hand still nuzzled into Al’s hair. 

Finally, Al settled back, laying his head carefully back onto Ed’s chest and shifted his body to the side, so his larger and undoubtedly heavier form didn’t rest on top of his brother's. A comfortable silence fell upon them, only disturbed by Ed’s slightly labored breaths and small moans as Winry replaced the damaged wires, and the small clicks and clanks of tools being shifted around. At some point, Roy had fetched a bowl of cool water and placed a soaked rag over Ed’s forehead. At the time Winry finally wiped her oily rag across her face, swiping off droplets of perspiration, Ed had fallen asleep, lost to fatigue and fever.  
  
“All done,” she declared quietly, inspecting her own handy-work more closely, just to make sure. 

“Did you fix it?” Al asked with anticipation, gingerly lifting himself off the bed. 

“It should be, as long as there’s no damage on the mechanism at the inside of his thorax too,” she explained and started picking up her utensils, placing them in the toolbox. “I need different equipment to check that though, at an automail workshop. But that won’t affect his ability to wear the automail, it just limits his movements a little and feels a bit pinched.” 

“When can he get his arm back on?” Roy asked, assisting the clean-up and offering to bring the heavy suitcase out in the hallway for her, which she boastfully declined.

“His shoulder will be quite sore for a couple of days, and in my professional opinion, we shouldn’t attach the arm before the swelling around the port goes down and his fever is completely gone. I suppose you’re not too unfamiliar with how much energy automail drains from your body, and after damage like this, it’s not uncommon to get a mild infection.”

Roy nodded. He had a bad taste in his mouth. He knew how helpless Edward felt right now, and having a working arm would help that tremendously. It would probably make him feel a lot safer too. By the puffed up and slightly flushed look on Winry’s face, Roy’s musings were clearly mistaken as impatience for Ed to get back to work. Luckily, Alphonse detected this too, and before Winry could venture out on a lengthy tyrant, Al interfered. 

 “Thank you, Winry.” He stepped in front of her, taking her hands in his and smiling genuinely down at her. “Thank you so, so much.”

However, before she could respond, the phone on the wall just a few feet away started to chime obnoxiously, ruining a moment that could both have turned out really beautiful or with a wrench to Roy’s head. Either way, Roy didn’t wait to find out. Instead, he stepped away and answered the phone before it could wake up Edward.

“Elric resident,” he answered with his deep baritone voice, listening intently to whoever was on the other side of the call. Then, he turned away from the two teens and started talking lowly into the receiver, obscuring his lips from view and making it difficult to make out what he was saying. Winry didn’t seem to notice too much, but then again, she wasn’t as informed about the situation (therefore, not as alerted) as the two others. Al did glance over Winry’s shoulder now and again to watch for Roy’s reactions to whatever was being said to him.

After a few minutes, Roy hung up. Alphonse and Winry had relocated to the living room, and Roy appeared in the doorway, sending a pointed glare towards Al, gesturing him to step away with him for a moment. He excused himself and followed Roy back to the hallway. 

“Who was that?” Al asked quietly, folding his arms across his chest as if he was cold.

“Hawkeye,” Roy said, not bothering with titles. Alphonse frowned, sensing that it had to do with what had happened to Edward and glanced into his brother’s room, making sure that he was in deep sleep still. Soft snore sounded from the room as he closed the door, just to be safe. 

“What did she say?”

Roy drew out a long exhale, running his hand through his hair wearily. Finally, he looked at the tall teen, eyes dark and agitated. “We’ve tried to make them wait. To give him a little more time, but they’re not budging,” he started. 

A pang of unease settled in Al’s stomach and he hugged himself tighter. “What?” 

“The police want Edward to come in tomorrow at the latest, to make his official statement.” 

“But, he’s not stable enough yet. He… he can hardly think about it without breaking down,” Al argued feebly. “Let alone relive it and tell it to some stranger!” 

“I know, I know,” Roy tried to ease. “We’ve offered to take over the case. That way, at least he can talk to someone he knows. Which, might not be much easier for him, but we already know a lot from being the first at the crime scene. But the damn police chief has a stick up his ass and takes it personally whenever the military takes over their cases,” he sneered, looking as if he had smelled something foul. “Anyway, I’m going in tomorrow morning to make my statement. The rest of the team already has.”

Alphonse nodded in understanding, feeling horribly apprehensive about it. “Well, we’ll have to tell him,” Al muttered eventually, as he felt a presence behind him and a long ponytail brushed across his shoulder.

“Tell him what?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m horrible at ending chapters, but otherwise, I'm pretty happy about how this turned out. Especially since I wrote it in one sitting.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Comments are greatly appreciated, and I really hope you’ve liked the new chappy!


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